Out  of  the  Jaws 
Of  Hunland 


Corp.  Fred.McMuIlen 

and 

Pte.  Jack  Evans 


Upper  row — Howitt 
Lower  row- 


"Toby 
-Evans 


'  Boyd 
McMullen 


Hockey 

Masters 


These  men  are  all  members  of  the  4th  Canadian  Mounted  Rifles  who  were  captured 
in  the  spring  of  1916  and  who  escaped  from  German  prisons  within  a  month  of  each  other. 

This  photo  was  taken  at  the  request  of  Col.  Gordon,  Officer  Commanding  the  regiment 
to  which  they  belonged,  and  who  is  now  in  England,  acting  as  O.  C.  of  the  8th  Reserve 
Depot  Mounted  Rifles. 


Out  of  the  Jaws 
of  Hunland 


The  Stories  of 
Corporal  Fred  McMullen 

Sniper 

Private  Jack  Evans 

Bomber 

CANADIAN   SOLDIERS 

Three  times  captured  and  finally 

escaped  from  German 

Prison  Camps 

'  !».»••  ,e        ;**-  *•* 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 
New  York  and  London 
imfcfcerbocfcer    press 
1918 


COPYRIGHT,  1918 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 


Ube  ftnicfeerbocfcer  jprcss,  flew 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY       ....        3 

EDITOR'S  NOTE      .         .         .         .17 

I. — STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED         .         .21 

II. — How  I  GOT  INTO  DIFFICULTIES      .      43 

III. — FROM  HOSPITAL  TO  PRISON  CAMP      .      65 

IV.— INTO  "THE  BLACK  HOLE"  of  GER- 
MANY           79 

V. — FAMINE    CONDITIONS   ON    GERMAN 

FARMS        .....       99 

VI. — AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE          .  .123 

VII. — EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE       .         .  .169 

VIII. — THE  SUCCESSFUL  ATTEMPT     .  .     203 

IX. — BLIGHTY  AT  LAST  .         .  .221 

X. — As  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS  .  .229 


in 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Upper    row — HOWITT — "TOBY"    BOYD — 
HOCKEY — Lower   row — EVANS — Mc- 
MULLEN — MASTERS     .         .       Frontispiece 
These  men  are  all  members  of  the  4th  Canadian 
Mounted  Rifles  who  were  captured  in  the 
spring  of  1916,  and  who  escaped  from  German 
prisons  within  a  month  of  each  other. 
This  photo  was  taken  at  the  request  of  Col.  Gor- 
don,  Officer   Commanding   the   regiment   to 
which  they  belonged,  and  who  is  now  in  Eng- 
land, acting  as  O.  C.  of  the  8th  Reserve  Depot 
Mounted  Rifles. 

PRIVATE  JACK  EVANS         .         .         .  17 

Photo  The  Studio,  London. 

SKETCH  OF  PART  OF  ZILLEBECK  LINE  WHERE 

McMULLEN  WAS  CAPTURED         .        .      52 

SALTER — PLATTS — MCMULLEN   .  .7° 

A  comparison  of  this  photo  with  that  of  the  six 
C.  M.  R.  men  taken  in  London  shortly  after 
their  escape  reveals  a  rather  interesting  story. 
This  photograph  was  taken  in  Friedrichsfeld 
camp  when  these  men  were  on  the  point  of 
starvation  and  was  "faked  up"  by  German 

[v] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


staff  photographers  to  present  a  favorable 
appearance  and  thus  create  a  favorable  impres- 
sion outside.  The  men  were  specially  dressed 
in  new  borrowed  uniforms,  and  were  forcibly 
stood  against  the  background  shown.  Their 
cheeks  and  bodies  were  afterwards  built  up  by 
retouching  the  negative.  This  was  frequently 
done  and  is  a  very  practical  explanation  of 
the  very  encouraging  photographs  of  prisoners 
in  the  German  camps.  No  photo  is  allowed  to 
go  out  unless  it  shows  the  prisoner  in  appar- 
ently good  health  and  under  pleasing  condi- 
tions. 

PLAN  OF  AUGUSTE-VICTORIA  CAMP  AND  MINE 
BUILDINGS  TO  ILLUSTRATE  THE  SEVERAL 
ESCAPES  OF  EVANS  AND  HIS  PALS  .  .  86 

DIAGRAM    SHOWING    ROUTE     TAKEN    BY 

EVANS  FROM  PRISON  CAMP  TO  HOLLAND        86 

RAESIDES  AND  EVANS        ....      90 

Taken  at  Auguste- Victoria  camp  in  borrowed 
new  uniforms  and  faked  up  by  German  staff 
photographers . 

DISINFECTING  CLOTHES  OF  RUSSIAN  PRISON- 
ERS IN  GERMAN  CONCENTRATION 
CAMPS  .  .  .  .  .  .no 

Photo  by  International  Film  Service 

RUSSIAN   PRISONERS  ON  EXHIBITION  IN    A 

GERMAN  CITY     .         .         .         .         .116 

Photo  by  International  Film  Service 

[vi] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


CARD  FROM  PRIVATE  JACK  EVANS  TO  HIS 

MOTHER  (Address  side)          .          .          .196 

CARD  WRITTEN  BY  EVANS  AT  MUNSTER  CAMP 
IN  AUGUST,  1917,  WHICH  WAS  DELIVERED 
TO  HIS  MOTHER  AT  OSHAWA,  ONT.,  THE 
FOLLOWING  OCTOBER  .  .  .  .198 

Note  the  appeals  for  food. 


[  vii 


Introductory 


INTRODUCTORY 

"So  you're  back,  boys!  And  how  did 
you  like  it  all?" 

Something  like  this  was  the  greeting  we 
got  when  we  stepped  off  the  train  at  Toronto 
a  few  weeks  ago. 

Like  it?  Say!  Wonder  if  they'd  have 
asked  that  if  they'd  had  any  idea  what  we'd 
been  through? 

Most  of  the  fellows  seem  to  think  it's 
lucky  to  get  wounded  enough  to  send  'em  to 
Blighty.  Well,  if  they'd  got  the  Blighty 
wounds  all  right,  but  if,  instead  of  being 
carried  back  nice  and  comfy  in  a  hospital 
ship  and  fussed  over  by  pretty  V.A.D.'s, 
they'd  been  yanked  in  over  a  German 
trench,  handled — nice  and  tenderly,  of 
course — by  German  officers  and  doctors, 
and  then,  while  trying  to  exist  on  mangel- 
top  soup,  and  hardly  able  to  crawl  around 

(si 


at  all,  they  were  forced  to  go  down  half  a 
mile  into  a  coal  mine  and  use  pick  and 
shovel  for  about  sixteen  hours  a  day — if 
they  had  had  this  would  they  like  it? 

Oh  yes.     We  liked  it,  all  right. 

Then  somebody  asked  us,  of  course, 
whether  the  people  in  Germany  were  starv- 
ing. When  we  told  'em  that  the  best  meal 
we  had  in  seventeen  months — all  the  time 
we  "visited"  in  Hunland — was  a  bowl  of 
thin  pea  soup,  and  that  the  German  civil- 
ians and  soldiers,  most  of  'em,  were  not 
much  better  off,  they  seemed  to  get  some 
light  on  things. 

When  we  told  a  few  close  friends  that  we 
were  nabbed,  the  third  time  we  tried  to  get 
away,  two  hundred  yards  from  the  border 
of  Holland  by  German  sentries,  one  of  the 
kind  friends  said,  as  though  we  hadn't  done 
our  duty,  "Why  didn't  you  biff  'em?" 

Say!  We'd  like  to  have  seen  that  chap 
in  the  same  boat.  Let  him  be  mighty  near 
starved  for  the  best  part  of  a  year — only 
kept  alive  by  the  boxes  sent  in  occasion- 
ally by  the  Red  Cross.  Then  let  him  go 

[41 


INTRODUCTORY 

for  a  week — himself  and  a  pal — on  half  a 
pound  of  soda  biscuits,  travelling  about 
fifteen  miles  a  day,  or  rather  night,  on  his 
weary  pins  in  the  meantime.  Have  him 
suddenly  run  up  against  a  handful  of  Huns 
with  bayonets  shining  up  in  his  face  out  of 
the  dark  and  not  a  bit  leery  about  shooting 
either.  Put  him  up  against  that  and  would 
he  say,  "Why  didn't  you  biff  'em?" 

One  of  the  funny  things  about  it  is  that 
we  enlisted  about  the  same  time,  in  the 
same  battalion,  went  through  about  the 
same  training,  were  captured  on  the  same 
day  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  same 
spot  in  the  same  line,  were  examined  in  the 
same  railway  station,  one  of  us  in  a  room 
above,  the  other  below,  at  about  the  same 
time;  were  at  different  times  in  the  same 
prison  camps,  even  occupied  the  same  cell 
when  they  brought  either  one  of  us  back, 
after  trying  to  make  a  getaway  of  it;  got 
away,  the  last  time,  within  a  few  days  of 
each  other  and,  though  starting  in  different 
German  provinces,  hit  the  Holland  border 
and  got  over  the  line  at  nearly  the  same 


INTRODUCTORY 

spot.  All  this  happened,  and  yet,  till  we 
met  one  another  incidentally  in  old  Graves- 
end  in  England,  neither  of  us  had  any  idea 
the  other  was  anywhere  but  scrapping  it 
out  back  in  the  trenches  with  the  rest  of 
the  C.M.R.  boys.  Since  then,  somehow  or 
other,  we've  been  mighty  good  pals. 

One  night,  a  little  while  after  we  got  home, 
when  we  were  sitting  around  with  the  boys, 
we  got  to  talking  about  the  thing  and  told 
'em  that  bit  about  lying  for  a  day  and  a 
night,  only  half-hidden  in  the  sand  under 
the  creek  bank  near  Weseke,  while  two 
women  hoed  turnips  all  day  in  the  field 
across  from  us,  and  two  German  soldiers 
crossed  the  creek  not  ten  feet  away. 

They  said  it  was  considerable  of  a  story. 
Perhaps  it  is.  The  War  Office  seemed  to 
think  we  had  something  interesting  to  tell 
when  we  got  finally  back  to  old  Blighty, 
anyway. 

So  here  it  is. 

Why  we  got  into  it  in  the  first  place? 
Well  we  were  fit  and,  while  we  had  fairly 

[6] 


INTRODUCTORY 

good  jobs,  hadn't  anybody  depending  on 
us.  Nothing  much  else  to  do  but  to  get 
into  it,  was  there?  That's  how  we  felt 
about  it,  anyway. 

So  when  the  call  for  King  and  Country, 
coupled  with  the  stories  we  heard  as  to  the 
way  the  Huns  were  treating  the  Belgians, 
got  under  our  skins  we  enlisted  at  Toronto, 
one  of  us  in  November,  1914,  the  other  in 
May,  '15,  and  somehow  both  of  us  got  stuck 
up  to  the  4th  C.M.R.  After  a  few  months 
in  Toronto  and  at  Valcartier,  they  shipped 
us  over  to  England,  and  before  we  had  been 
there  long  enough  to  get  used  to  the  fog  we 
were  ferried  across  the  Channel  and  mighty 
soon  after  got  into  the  thick  of  it.  There 
was  none  of  this  getting  acclimated  behind 
the  line  the  boys  get  now,  just  then.  Why, 
the  very  first  night — or  perhaps  it  was  the 
second,  so  much  other  stuff  has  happened 
since  it's  hard  to  remember — we  were  sent 
up  about  three  miles  in  communication 
trenches  to  put  in  twenty-four  hours  of 
' '  instruction. ' '  Instruction  it  certainly 
was.  We  remember  one  Irishman,  when 

[7] 


INTRODUCTORY 

we  climbed  up  on  the  firing  step,  after  slip- 
ping off  and  sliding  up  to  our  necks  in  nice 
"gooey"  mud  half  a  dozen  times,  telling  us 
that  it  wasn't  a  bit  dangerous.  P'raps  it 
wasn't.  We  got  used  to  it,  of  course,  after 
a  while,  but  we  can  remember  yet  how  those 
Boche  bullets  went  pinging  and  winging 
over  our  heads.  No,  p'raps  it  wasn't  dan- 
gerous, but  the  next  afternoon  two  or  three 
chaps  out  of  our  battalion  were  killed  in  a 
nasty  bombardment. 

After  our  twenty-four-hour  go  there  they 
took  us  back  to  "Stink  Farm."  Ask  any 
of  the  fellows  who've  been  over  what  that 
means.  We'd  rather  not  tell  you  ourselves. 
The  memories  are  rather  painful. 

For  a  while  the  battalion  was  employed 
in  different  work  around  Messines — pioneer 
work,  digging  communication  trenches, 
holding  the  line  for  a  while  at  times,  and  in 
other  duty.  That  duty  in  the  line  was  quite 
a  job  just  then,  too.  You  see,  the  C.M.R.'s 
were  supposed  to  be  mounted  troops  and 
the  battalion  muster  was  six  hundred  men 
as  against  the  round  thousand  in  an  in- 

[8] 


INTRODUCTORY 

fantry  battalion.  So  when  they  shot  us 
up  in  that  blooming  front  line  to  relieve  the 
"legs  only"  boys,  we  had  to  spread  ourselves 
around  some,  and  it  kept  us  busy.  Seems 
as  though  the  authorities  after  a  while  ap- 
preciated this  and  some  other  little  difficul- 
ties, for,  some  time  in  February — that 
was  in  nineteen  sixteen — they  moved  the 
bunch  back  to  Metron,  a  little  village 
six  or  seven  miles  behind  the  line.  Here 
we  were  joined  by  the  ist,  2d,  and  5th 
C.M.R.'s  and  were  treated  to — what  do 
you  suppose?  A  month's  infantry  drill. 
Scarcely  a  man  of  us  knew  how  to  form 
fours.  We  made  out  we  didn't,  anyway. 
You  know  the  cavalry  drill  is  a  good  deal 
different.  And  here  we  had  been,  doing  the 
infantry's  work  but  knowing  nothing  of  the 
best  part  of  the  trade.  Nice  box  of  tricks, 
wasn't  it?  But  we  guess  they  needed  the 
men  just  then.  Looked  like  it  when  we 
were  in  the  line,  anyhow.  So  we  just  made 
the  best  of  it. 

Should  have  heard  our  officers,  though. 
Not  a  one  of  them,  from  subalterns  up, 

[93 


INTRODUCTORY 

would  admit  to  knowing  the  "steps"  at  all. 
And  there  was  some  grumbling  all  round. 
They  fixed  that  up  by  bringing  down  some 
of  the  Princess  Pat's  officers  and  sergeants 
who  worked  with  us  till  we  could  get  through 
things  pretty  decently.  Then  they  made 
up  our  short  numbers  with  a  draft  from  the 
8th  C.M.R.  and  the  35th  Battalion. 

From  Metron,  we  went  up  on  a  fifteen- 
mile  march  to  G  camp  in  the  Ypres  salient. 
And  say,  since  we've  come  back  we  hear  all 
the  folks  calling  that  doggoned  spot  "Wip- 
ers." Seems  queer  to  us.  Nobody  called 
it  that  while  we  were  there.  We  went  in 
the  line  there  into  the  "International" 
Trench  near  St.  Eloi,  relieving  the  Queens 
West  Surreys  and  a  bunch  from  Sussex. 
They  called  it  "Yeeps."  Behind  the  line 
we  met  some  Belgians  who  called  it  "Yipes," 
but  never  a  "Wipers"  did  we  hear. 

That  was  a  nice  comfortable  spot  just 
then.  Uh-huh!  They  called  it  "Interna- 
tional" because  it  changed  hands  so  often. 
The  British  tried  hard  to  hold  it  steady,  but 
the  Boches  were  round  on  three  sides  of  it. 


10 


INTRODUCTORY 

We  used  to  think  they  were  in  the  back  too, 
the  way  the  shells  came  in.  But  you  see 
the  line  ran  around  something  like  the  shore 
of  Humber  Bay,  only  inverted,  and  they 
could  pump  in  enfilade  fire  all  over.  They 
used  to  blast  the  trench  up  and  come  over 
one  day,  but  the  next  the  Tommies  would 
go  up  and  take  it  and  dig  in  again.  You 
can  judge  how  comfortable  it  was  in  there 
when  you  know  that  just  then  there  was  an 
average  of  six  hundred  casualties  a  week — 
not  in  raids  or  artillery  strafes  but  just  in 
holding  up  the  line. 

We  were  in  there  for  eight  days — four  in 
the  front  line  and  four  in  support — and 
then  went  back  to  B  camp,  near  Poperiiighe, 
for  a  week's  rest.  After  that  we  spent  some 
time  in  different  parts  of  the  line  in  the 
same  neighborhood,  a  good  deal  of  it  around 
the"GapofHooge." 

Haven't  heard  of  it?  Well,  that  gap  was 
a  swampy  spot  in  the  line  where  it  was  out 
of  the  question  to  keep  a  regular  trench 
open.  So  shallow  pits  were  cleaned  out  as 
well  as  possible  about  fifty  yards  apart  and 

In] 


INTRODUCTORY 

a  couple  of  men  sent  out  to  each.  These, 
with  machine-gun  fire,  kept  the  Germans 
back.  It  was  dirty  work  out  there,  though. 
We  used  to  man  the  pits  half  way  across, 
and  the  Scots  Guards,  who  were  on  the 
left,  just  then,  filled  up  the  other  half. 

At  one  spot  just  here  was  a  short  bit  of 
trench  running  out  like  a  sap  from  the  front 
line  to  within  thirteen  yards  of  the  Boches. 
Somebody,  probably  because  it  was  a  some- 
what unnecessary  evil,  had  named  it  "The 
Appendix."  That  used  to  be  a  tidy  spot 
for  the  bombers.  Nice  spot  to  spend  a 
night  in,  out  there,  with  stuff  going  on  all 
round  you,  when  times  were  busy,  and  no 
idea  when  a  lot  of  Germans  would  pound 
over  on  top  of  you.  That  was  one  reason 
men  were  stationed  out  there.  A  couple  of 
bombers  can  do  a  nice  lot  of  damage  to  a 
raiding  party  and  pretty  well  bust  it  up 
before  it  gets  anywhere  near  your  own 
trenches. 

We  had  some  good  tossers  there,  too. 
Stanley  Park  and  "  Whitey"  Masters  (whom 
we'll  tell  you  more  about  later),  had  whiffed 

[12] 


INTRODUCTORY 

baseballs  around  a  good  deal  with  some  of 
the  Toronto  ball  teams  and  they  surely 
made  good  at  this  game.  Park  could  handle 
a  Mills  bomb  to  about  thirty-five  yards 
and,  believe  us,  that's  some  throw. 

Just  to  the  right  of  the  "Gap"  the  Ger- 
mans had  a  nasty  little  sniping  post  which 
accounted  for  a  good  many  of  our  fellows. 
When  you  know  that  this  was  nicknamed 
"The  Birdcage,"  you  can  perhaps  get  some 
idea  of  it.  It  was  really  nothing  but  a  bit 
of  protection  built  up  of  sand  bags,  con- 
crete, and  boiler  plate  which  from  a  little 
way  behind  the  line  looked  like  a  big  hor- 
nets' nest  upside-down.  Two  snipers  used 
to  stay  in  there  all  the  time  and  from  be- 
hind a  slit  in  the  boiler  plate  would  pink 
away  at  our  fellows  whenever  a  bit  of  human- 
ity showed.  We  tried  all  kinds  of  stunts 
to  break  it  up  without  affecting  it  much. 
Perhaps  it  will  give  you  some  idea  of  how 
good  our  artillery  shooting  was  at  the  time 
when  we  tell  you  that  we've  seen  eighteen- 
pounder  shells,  one  after  another,  bounce 
off  the  sides  of  that  "Birdcage."  After 

[13] 


INTRODUCTORY 

we  left  that  spot,  so  we  were  told,  the 
troops  were  moved  back  for  a  while  so  the 
"Heavies"  could  get  in  some  work  and  they 
soon  put  it  out  of  business. 

We  were  in  this  section  off  and  on  for 
three  months.  Once  we  were  quartered  in 
reserve  near  Zillebeck  Lake,  about  three 
miles  behind  the  lines.  We  remember  that 
well  because  there  we  got  a  great  feed  of 
fish.  Some  wise  guy  hit  on  the  idea  of 
taking  the  detonator  out  of  a  bomb  and 
tossing  it  in  the  lake  which  was  full  of  pike 
and  perch.  Of  course  it  didn't  do  a  thing 
to  those  in  the  immediate  locality.  Easier 
than  spearing  suckers,  that.  After  a  while 
though,  that  was  stopped  and  for  a  funny 
reason.  It  seems  that  the  signallers  had 
laid  their  wires  through  this  lake  to  save 
digging  and  to  protect  them  from  shell  fire. 
They  began  to  wonder  at  headquarters 
what  was  happening  to  these  lines.  You  see 
when  the  detonators  lit  anywhere  near  the 
wire  they  were  "rather  hard  on  the  insula- 
tion," as  somebody  said.  So  the  boys  had 
to  get  their  fish  some  other  way. 

[14] 


INTRODUCTORY 

We  could  give  you  a  lot  of  dope  on  things 
like  this.  Could  tell  how  muddy  the 
trenches  were,  how  they  blew  in  our  dug- 
outs— when  we  had  any — how  we  had  to 
dig  those  telephone  cables  in  along  the  line, 
and  a  whole  grist  of  such  stuff,  but  that  sort 
of  thing  has  been  told  a  dozen  times  already. 
We  believe  you'll  be  more  interested  in 
what  happened  a  little  later,  when  all  the 
trouble  came.  And  since  from  this  time 
on  our  stories  run  considerably  different,  it 
will  probably  be  better  for  each  of  us  to 
tell  his  own. 


Private  Jack  Evans. 


Photo,  The  Studio,  London. 


EDITOR'S  NOTE 

A  glance  at  the  photographs  opposite  should 
be  interesting  at  this  juncture  as  giving  some 
light  on  the  temperaments  of  the  men  whose 
individual  stories  follow. 

Evans,  who  was  born  in  England — in  1892, 
by  the  way — and  came  to  Canada  sixteen 
years  ago,  is  of  Irish  extraction  and  shows  it. 
He  is  one  of  those  highly-strung,  always- 
moving  chaps,  ready  to  tackle  anything  which 
comes  along,  and  with  a  good  deal  of  the  some- 
times maligned  Irish  pugnaciousness  mixed 
in.  These  qualities,  naturally,  attracted  him 
to  the  machine-gun  section  and  in  addition 
he  took  a  course  in  bombing  and  had  his  share 
of  that  also  till  u  all  the  trouble  came." 

McMullen  saw  the  light  in  Toronto  three 
years  earlier  and  lived  there  till  bigger  things 
than  a  carpenter's  job  called  him  to  France. 
While  he  is  also  of  Irish  descent  he  is  more 

[17] 


EDITOR'S  NOTE 

of  a  matter-of-fact  and  steadier  type.  A  few 
years  ago  he  used  to  pot  ducks  down  on  Fish- 
erman's Island  and  this,  probably,  helped  him 
to  show  up  so  well  in  his  shooting  at  Hyeth 
that  he  was  made  coach  in  the  sniping  course 
for  a  while  and  was  given  his  stripes.  Natu- 
rally, when  he  got  into  the  middle  of  things 
over  in  France  he  wanted  to  continue  the 
potting  with  bigger  game  in  prospect  and  so 
was  counted  in  with  the  battalion's  snipers. 


[18] 


Out  of  the  Jaws  of  Hunland 


[19] 


CHAPTER  I 

STRAFED  AND   CAPTURED 

Jack  Evans  begins: 

IT  had  been  pretty  quiet  on  that  section 
of  the  line  for  quite  a  while,  but  that  day, 
the  second  of  June,  our  friends  across  No 
Man's  Land  certainly  started  something. 
We  went  in  the  day  before,  relieving  the 
58th  Battalion,  and  even  then  things  were 
beginning  to  get  a  bit  unpleasant.  The 
German  gunners  had  been  getting  a  line 
on  the  trench  with  mortars  in  preparation 
for  the  attack  which  came  later,  and  I  can 
remember  one  of  the  58th's  M.G.  crew 
coming  out  said:  " Thank  God  we're  get- 
ting out  of  here  for  five  days.  I'm  about 
fed  up."  It  was  fairly  quiet  that  night, 
too.  We  had  a  working  party  out  on  a  sap 
in  front  for  a  while  and  I  was  kept  busy 

[21] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

covering  these  with  the  gun.  About  four 
in  the  morning,  just  after  Stand-to,  I  rolled 
in,  but  "Wedgy"  (Lce.-corp.  Wedgewood), 
my  mate  on  the  gun,  decided  to  stay  up 
and  clean  it.  About  eight-thirty  I  got 
hoisted  up  a  bit  when  a  shell  from  a  trench 
mortar  lit  square  in  the  dugout.  Nice 
way  to  get  wakened  up,  that.  No  inter- 
mittent alarm-clock  needed.  When  I  came 
to,  I  found  that  another  chap  and  I  had 
been  lucky.  We  got  off  with  only  that 
blow-up,  while  three  of  our  pals  in  the  same 
hole  were  killed.  The  same  shell  buried 
Wedge  and  the  gun.  We  dug  Wedge  up 
and  started  to  clean  up  a  bit.  We  carried 
on  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  another  trench 
mortar  came  in  just  round  the  parapet  and 
lit  into  the  middle  of  our  machine-gun  am- 
munition. We  had  about  twenty  thousand 
rounds  stored  there  and  that  shell  accounted 
for  all  but  about  three  hundred.  A  few 
minutes  later  another  shell — a  Minnie,  I 
think  it  was — killed  another  pal  in  a  dug- 
out just  beside  us.  They  were  putting  a 
strong  line  of  fire  on  the  front  line,  on  our 

[22] 


STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED 

wire,  and  just  behind  the  trench  to  keep 
any  supports  from  getting  up. 

This  sort  of  thing  kept  on  pretty  steady 
all  round  us.  About  nine-thirty  Wedge 
and  I  decided  to  try  to  get  down  the  trench 
about  three  hundred  yards  to  Number 
Three  gun,  hoping  to  get  some  ammuni- 
tion. We  started  down,  carrying  the  gun, 
of  course — that's  one  of  the  cardinal  rules, 
never  to  leave  your  gun  alone — and  found 
trouble  all  the  way  down.  Two  or  three 
times  we  stopped  to  give  a  hand  to  fellows 
who  were  buried,  and  every  few  yards  we 
found  a  chunk  of  the  parapet  blown  in, 
leaving  huge  gaps.  How  we  ever  got  across 
these  I  don't  know  for  they  were  being 
raked  with  machine-gun  fire  all  the  time. 
I  remember,  though,  we  used  to  back  up  and 
take  a  run  at  it  and  usually  we  felt  a  whiff 
of  M.  G.  bullets  either  in  front  or  behind  us. 

Yes,  they  surely  gave  it  to  us  that  morn- 
ing. It  seemed  as  if  all  hell  was  let  loose. 
"  Minnies "  were  dropping  around  us  every 
minute  and  sandbags  were  flying  around 
like  dirt  at  a  digging  bee.  To  add  another 

[23] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

pleasant  touch  to  it  all,  the  German  planes 
were  scooting  along  low,  parallel  with  the 
trenches,  dropping  bombs  by  the  basketful. 
We'd  never  thought  a  plane  could  drop 
anything  to  come  within  a  mile  of  a  mark 
before  that,  but  they  did  that  day — dropped 
'em  in  apparently  wherever  they  liked. 
Of  course  by  this  time  there  was  nothing 
much  against  them. 

They've  told  us  since  that  this  was  the 
worst  bombardment  on  the  Ypres  salient 
up  to  that  time.  I  haven't  any  doubt  it 
was,  and  I've  got  a  good  strong  suspicion 
there  hasn't  been  anything  as  bad,  or  at 
any  rate  any  worse,  since.  The  whole 
German  artillery  of  the  sector  was  turned 
loose  on  a  section  of  line  from  Hooge  to 
Trench  47,  only  about  a  mile  and  a  quarter 
long.  They  say  since  that  big  shells  were 
landing  about  every  six  feet.  To  us  it 
seemed  that  they  were  coming  down  one 
about  every  foot  and  two  or  three  in  a 
bunch  at  that.  You  see  they  came  in  from 
all  directions  except  immediately  behind  us 
because  the  sector  poked  up  into  their  line. 

[24] 


STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED 

All  this  was  going  on  with  absolutely  no 
artillery  retaliation.  Why,  we  don't  know, 
unless  the  communications  were  cut.  That 
was  the  day,  by  the  way,  General  Mercer 
was  killed.  He  was  as  bad  off,  I  guess, 
as  any  of  us.  One  of  the  chaps  I  knew, 
Gregory,  a  signaller,  told  me  of  'phoning 
back  a  message  at  the  General's  orders  to 
General  Headquarters  to  "send  everything 
you've  got."  The  answer  came  that  every- 
thing would  open  up.  But  it  didn't  come. 
General  Mercer  was  wounded  by  shrapnel 
and  then  tried  to  get  back  to  Headquarters 
through  what  little  was  left  of  a  communica- 
tion trench.  Another  chunk  of  shrapnel 
got  him  there.  Brig.-General  Williams  was 
with  General  Mercer  at  the  time  and  was 
captured  in  a  sap  where  he  went  for  first 
aid  after  being  wounded. 

When  we  finally  got  down  to  Number 
Three's  position  after  a  good  deal  of  trouble, 
we  found  absolutely  no  trace  of  the  gun. 
She  was  blown  to — well,  figure  it  out  for 
yourself.  Three  of  the  crew  were  gone,  too. 
The  other  three  went  the  same  way  a  little 

[25! 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

while  after.  We  thought  we'd  try  to  get 
down  further  to  Number  Two.  We  knew, 
you  see,  that  all  this  dirty  work  meant  a 
big  attack  and  wanted  to  get  some  ammuni- 
tion if  there  was  any  chance  at  all.  We 
soon  found,  though,  that  we  might  about 
as  well  try  to  get  down  in  the  open.  For 
yards  the  trench  was  like  a  pancake  and 
the  M.G.  men  were  having  a  high  time 
covering  those  spots.  So  we  went  back 
a  piece — you  could  hardly  tell  whether 
you'd  been  past  before  because  things  were 
so  blasted  around — till  we  hit  a  bit  of  tra- 
verse running  toward  the  Germans  which 
somehow  or  other  had  been  left  intact. 
In  this  hole,  about  thirty-five  feet  long,  were 
Corporal  Day  and  a  sergeant  of  "A"  Com- 
pany. We  got  down  in  there  and  stuck  it 
out  till  after  one  o'clock.  I  spent  most  of 
the  time — there  was  nothing  else  to  do- 
spotting  for  "Minnies."  How  the  shells 
pounded  that  bit  of  trench  around  you  can 
guess  when  I  tell  you  that  we  carried  on 
there  for  over  an  hour,  buried  up  to  our 
waists  in  sand  and  rubbish  which  was 

[26] 


STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED 

blown  in  from  all  around  us.  During  that 
time  all  of  us  got  hit  once  or  twice.  Wedge 
got  a  nasty  little  scrape  with  a  chunk  of 
shell  right  across  the  collar  bone.  I  got 
mine,  shrapnel,  too,  in  the  foot,  the  knee, 
and  the  back.  Another  chunk  hit  me  square 
on  the  steel  helmet  and  dinted  it  in.  There's 
the  scar  from  it,  see.  But  fortunately, 
none  of  these  was  very  bad. 

About  one-thirty  we  saw  three  star  shells 
go  up  from  the  German  lines  across  from  us. 

11  There's  the  signal  for  attack/'  Wedge 
said.  So  we  hauled  ourselves  as  well  as  we 
could  out  of  the  rubbish,  climbed  up  to  the 
parapet — what  little  there  was  left  of  it — 
and  squinted  over.  There  was  Fritzy  '  'com- 
ing over"  in  extended  order  about  seventy- 
five  yards  away. 

By  this  time  we  were  rather  busted  up, 
as  you  can  imagine,  what  with  the  shrapnel 
and  the  fact  that  we  hadn't  had  a  bite  of 
anything,  food  nor  water,  that  day.  I 
don't  think  I  was  ever  so  thirsty  in  my  life. 
I'm  not  saying  anything  about  being  hungry, 
mind.  I  found  out  later  something  about 

[27] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

what  that  meant.  However,  we  managed 
to  get  the  gun  into  action  and,  I'm  thankful 
to  say,  got  a  few  of  them.  You  will  know, 
though,  about  how  long — or  I'd  better  say 
how  short — that  three  hundred  rounds 
lasted.  Say,  but  that  was  disappointing. 
I'd  never  had  so  good  a  chance  to  mow 
them  down  before  and  we  could  keep  that 
gun  going  only  a  few  seconds.  That  alone 
was  enough  to  break  your  heart. 

Of  course  we'd  been  busy  looking  after 
that  gun  and  had  absolutely  nothing  else 
with  us  to  put  up  a  scrap  with.  By  this 
time  it  was  every  man  for  himself.  There 
were  no  orders  of  any  kind — no  officers  left, 
and  most  of  the  N.C.O.'s  out  of  business, 
too.  So  we  thought  it  was  about  time  to 
get  out  and  get  back  if  possible.  We  got 
back  over  the  parados  as  well  as  we  could, 
and  ran  plump  into  four  Fritzies  with  fixed 
bayonets.  We  did  not  know  it,  of  course, 
but  they  had  been  all  around  us  for  some 
time.  That  will  give  you  some  idea  of  the 
shape  things  were  in  around  there  just 
about  then. 

[28] 


STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  flop  back 
into  the  trench  which  we  did  as  quick  as  we 
could.  They  fired  but  missed.  We  knew 
they'd  follow  us  up  though,  so  climbed  over 
a  bank  of  rubbish  and  ran  into  four  more 
Germans  coming  down  the  trench. 

What  did  I  think  of?  I  don't  know. 
Somehow  or  other  it  never  hit  me  that  I  was 
a  prisoner  till  I  was  over  in  their  trench  a 
little  later.  I  was  so  wild  with  anger  over 
our  helplessness  I  didn't  know  what  to  do. 

I  do  remember  that  there  was  none  of  this 

II  Shove  up  your  hands"  business  you  read 
about.     They  simply  jabbed  us  in  the  most 
convenient  portions  with  their  big  bayonets 
and  forced  us  over  the  parapet.     About 
this  time  our  artillery  at  last  started  up  a 
little.  When  the  first  shells  came  over,  the 
Boches  who  had  us  flopped.     We  didn't. 
Those  British  shells  were  too  darn  good  to 
see. 

When  we  got  down  into  the  German 
trench  they  marched  us  along  to  a  dressing 
station  two  or  three  hundred  yards  up.  On 
the  way  one  big  Prussian  took  a  kick  at  me. 

[29] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

When  I  stopped  and  looked  at  him  he  kicked 
again.  This  time  I  caught  his  foot.  He 
came  at  me  with  his  bayonet  and  I  guess 
I  wouldn't  be  telling  you  this,  if  an  officer 
who  seemed  a  decent  sort,  or  thought  they 
could  get  some  information  out  of  me,  had 
not  stopped  him.  I  didn't  care  much,  at 
that.  I  was  too  mad. 

When  we  got  a  chance  we  fixed  one  an- 
other up  as  well  as  we  could.  Wedge's 
wound  was  bothering  him  a  good  deal  and 
we  tried  to  clean  it  up.  For  a  little  while 
the  Germans  didn't  seem  to  pay  much  at- 
tention to  us.  Then  an  officer  who  could 
speak  English  came  up  and  asked  us  how 
long  we  thought  the  war  was  going  to  last. 
When  we  told  him  we  didn't  know,  he 
asked  us  if  they  had  us  beaten.  Of  course 
we  said,  No,  but  we  told  him  we  thought 
they  had  given  us  pretty  rough  handling 
that  morning. 

A  little  later  we  were  ordered  back  to  a 
church  just  behind  the  lines  where  a  party 
of  Canadian  prisoners  was  made  up.  There 
were  about  fifty  of  us  altogether — Princess 

[30] 


STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED 

Pats,  ist,  4th,  and  5th  C.M.R.'s,  two  or 
three  artillery  observers,  and  a  few  trench 
mortar  men.  From  there  we  were  forced 
to  go  on  again  and,  as  we  found  out  later, 
were  billed  for  a  march  to  Menin,  between 
fifteen  and  eighteen  miles. 

Talk  about  forced  marches.  I  had 
thought  it  was  pretty  bad  getting  up  those 
muddy  old  communication  trenches  with 
part  of  the  gun,  and  so  it  was,  but,  Great 
Caesar !  Never  believe  anybody  again  when 
they  tell  you  that  was  hard.  Think  of  it. 
Most  of  us  were  more  or  less  cut  up,  but 
that  didn't  seem  to  make  any  difference. 
My  foot  had  begun  to  bother  me  a  good 
deal  by  this  time,  too,  but  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  pike  along.  Some  of  the  other 
fellows  were  a  good  deal  worse  off  than  either 
Wedge  or  I,  but  they  had  to  pound  along 
just  the  same.  We  were  under  an  escort 
of  mounted  Uhlans  armed  with  long  lances 
and  ahead  of  us  rode  military  police  on  bi- 
cycles. They  knew  where  they  had  to  get 
that  night  and  they  kept  us  moving.  We 
asked  for  water,  thinking  we  would  at  least 

[31] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

be  given  that,  but  there  was  nothing  doing. 
Not  a  drop  did  we  get  till  we  got  into  Menin 
at  about  ten  o'clock. 

We  did  get  some  sympathy,  too.  I  forgot. 
Several  places  along  the  road  Belgian  civil- 
ians tried  to  show  us  how  sorry  they  were 
for  us  by  giving  us  food.  It  was  no  use. 
The  moment  the  Uhlans  saw  what  was  going 
on,  they  would  ride  up  and  bash  them  over 
the  head  with  their  lances.  One  girl,  about 
eighteen  years  old,  who  seemed  a  little  more 
daring  than  the  others,  was  hit  this  way  and 
knocked  flat  in  the  road.  It  seemed  to  be 
a  settled  policy  to  maltreat  these  poor 
people  at  every  turn.  Often  the  beggars 
on  the  bicycles  would  get  off,  when  they 
met  people  on  the  road,  kick  the  men  and 
women  and  cuff  the  children.  This  was 
done  absolutely  without  provocation,  too. 
The  Belgians  took  it  the  only  way  they 
could  and  so  far  as  we  could  see  didn't  show 
any  resentment.  Wouldn't  have  done  them 
any  good  if  they  had .  The  Germans  seemed 
to  have  done  this  sort  of  thing  so  much 
that  they  had  them  cowed,  all  the  life  and 

[32] 


STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED 

hope  beaten  out  of  them.  Of  course  all 
this  got  under  our  skins  pretty  deep,  but 
what  could  we  do? 

When  we  got  to  Menin,  a  Belgian  town 
of  about  fifteen  thousand,  we  could  see 
traces  of  the  German  bombardment  of  the 
earlier  days.  We  were  put  in  a  horse  stable 
and  given  our  first  meal — memorable  for 
several  things.  It  was  the  first  meal  under 
the  auspices  of  our  Hun  hosts.  It  gave  us 
our  first  introduction  to  German  war  coffee, 
and  also  gave  us  a  chance  to  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  German  war  bread. 

The  coffee  was  black  and  hot.  Whether 
it  was  made  of  chestnuts,  burnt  grain,  or 
stove  polish  we  didn't  know — and  didn't 
much  care  so  long  as  it  was  the  liquid  our 
bodies  had  been  crying  out  for  all  day. 

The  bread.  Say,  when  I  hear  anybody 
here  at  home  talking  about  "War  Bread" 
I  feel  like  yelling.  What  we  got  was  a  hunk, 
mighty  small  at  that,  about  what  would 
make  up  a  fair  half -slice  of  one  of  our  baker's 
loaves,  of  a  doughy,  sour,  black  concoction 
which  looked  as  if  it  had  a  sawdust  crust. 

[33] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

As  a  matter  of  fact  it  had,  as  we  verified 
later.  The  inside  mass  seemed  to  be  made 
from  turnips.  We  couldn't  begin  to  eat 
the  stuff  then.  We  learned  to,  later — when 
we  had  to,  or  die. 

Yes,  you  can  put  right  down  as  gospel 
those  stories  you  heard  and  didn't  believe, 
of  bread  made  from  sawdust  being  fed  to 
the  Belgian  kiddies.  It  may  not  have  been 
all  sawdust  but  the  wood  was  there,  just 
the  same.  We've  had  the  same  stuff,  time 
and  time  again.  Sometimes  the  principal 
ingredient  seemed  to  be  ground  straw. 
Sometimes  it  was  potatoes.  They  didn't 
toss  away  the  hides  either.  Often  we've  seen 
pieces  of  potato  skin  sticking  out  of  our 
allowance  of  bread. 

That  was  in  June,  1916,  remember,  and 
that  was  the  chief  ration  of  the  Belgian 
civilians  and  the  allied  prisoners  at  that 
time  and  until  we  left  Germany  last  De- 
cember. The  German  civilians  got  about 
the  same  stuff,  sometimes  a  little  better. 
Sometimes  neither  we  nor  the  civilians  got 
even  this  bread.  But  more  of  this  later. 

[341 


STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED 

When  I  think  about  it  I'm  surprised  that 
we  all  seemed  to  sleep  so  well  that  night. 
Of  course  we  were  beastly  tired  and  had  no 
idea  of  what  was  coming.  Not  a  single  one 
of  the  fellows  I  was  with  then  or  talked  with 
later  had  ever  dreamed  of  being  captured, 
so  we  didn't  worry  over  what  was  ahead 
of  us. 

Next  morning  we  were  poked  out  good 
and  early,  so  stiff  that  it  was  agony  to  move 
at  all,  were  formed  up  into  fours  and  paraded 
before  an  officer  who  spoke  English  splen- 
didly. I  can  remember  almost  every  word 
of  the  command  which  came: 

"You  are  now  under  German  martial 
law  and  if  you  do  not  give  up  any  papers  or 
any  other  information  in  your  possession 
you  will  be  shot/' 

I  had  in  my  pockets  two  letters,  and  a 
book  on  machine  gunnery  which  I  had  been 
working  away  at  in  odd  moments,  and 
Wedge  had  another  copy  of  the  same  book. 
We  didn't  want  them  to  get  those  books,  so, 
being  near  the  end  of  the  line  and  standing 
beside  a  drain,  we  got  them  out  mighty 

[35] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

carefully  and  kept  tearing  them  up  in  our 
hands.  Before  they  came  along  to  search 
us  we  were  able  to  reach  down  and  get  those 
bits  of  paper  down  the  drain.  They  took 
my  two  letters  though. 

Breakfast!  Say  you  fellows  who  have 
your  two  eggs  after  grapefruit  and  cereal 
and  probably  end  up  on  muffins  and  mar- 
malade, thinking  you're  doing  wonders  to 
forego  the  old-time  slice  of  bacon!  You 
don't  know  you're  living.  Our  breakfast 
that  morning  was  the  same  as  "dinner" 
the  night  before — stove-polish  coffee  we 
couldn't  drink  and  war  bread  we  couldn't 
eat.  Any  of  you  fat  fellows  don't  need  to 
take  long  distance  running  or  a  course  of 
"bawths"  to  get  back  so  you  can  wear  one 
of  those  dinky  morning  coats.  Just  take 
a  couple  of  months  of  our  experience.  You'll 
need  to  take  a  foot  or  two  out  of  your  waist- 
band at  the  end  of  it.  It's  true  what  they 
say,  all  right.  We  didn't  see  a  single  fat 
man,  even  moderately  fat,  in  Germany. 

About  noon  they  marched  the  lot  of  us 
down  to  the  railway  station,  a  busy  place, 

[36] 


STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED 

for  this  seemed  to  be  the  headquarters  for 
the  district.  I  remember  that  well,  for 
there  I  got  a  real  meal — the  best  one  I  had 
in  all  my  seventeen  months  in  Germany. 

What  was  it?  How  many  courses?  A 
gammel  (wash  basin)  of  thin  pea  soup. 
That  was  all.  But  it  was  mighty  good. 

After  we  stood  around  for  a  while  here 
in  a  sort  of  freight-sorting  room,  in  came 
about  twenty  German  officers.  We  won- 
dered what  was  up  when  they  approached 
us  smiling  and  very  politely,  but  soon  found 
out  what  was  in  the  wind.  One  of  them 
asked  me  in  excellent  English  how  many 
troops  were  stationed  on  the  Ypres  front, 
how  many  guns  there  were  in  the  sector,  and 
similar  things.  I  didn't  know  just  what  to 
say,  not  knowing  what  might  happen,  but 
finally  I  hit  on  playing  up  ignorant.  "I'm 
only  a  common  soldier, "  I  said.  "It  isn't 
for  me  to  know  these  things." 

They  seemed  to  judge  us  from  the  stand- 
point of  their  own  privates  and  took  all 
this  apparently  as  gospel. 

Another    officer    who    was    questioning 

[37l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

Billy  Raeside,  a  Woodbridge  boy,  still  in 
Germany,  though  he  got  away  with  me  for 
a  while  on  one  of  the  "attempts/*  asked 
him  the  same  questions.  When  the  first 
one,  about  the  troops  on  the  Ypres  front, 
was  put  to  him,  Billy  scratched  his  head 
for  a  minute  and  said:  "Don't  know  ex- 
actly, sir.  But  about  four  million,  I  think." 

The  officer  came  back  at  him  a  little  stiffly. 

"Vat  vould  you  take  me  for?"  he  said. 
"Do  you  t'ink  I'm  a  fool? "  Then  he  took 
a  kick  at  Billy  and  walked  away. 

The  last  man  they  questioned  was  Wish- 
back,  one  of  our  bombers,  who  had  some 
German  blood  in  him.  The  officer  looked 
him  over  and  then  said:  "Kannst  du 
Deutsch  sprechen?" 

Before  "Wish"  thought  about  it,  I  guess, 
for  he  could  jabber  away  in  the  stuff  easy, 
he  said:  "No."  The  officer  turned  with  a 
grin  and  shot  at  him:  "Then  how  do  you 
know  what  I  said?"  He  didn't  get  any 
satisfaction  out  of  him,  though,  and  after 
a  few  minutes  said :  ' '  Ach,  was ! ' '  and  turned 
away. 

[38] 


STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED 

It's  a  wonder  they  didn't  do  something 
to  us  right  there,  though.  One  or  two  of 
the  boys  began  to  get  a  little  heady,  think- 
ing they'd  put  it  over  them  and  started  to 
be  smart  to  them.  I  guess  they  concluded 
there  was  no  use  bothering  us  any  further 
and  so  left  us  alone. 

One  of  the  officers — perhaps  he  was  try- 
ing to  be  ingratiating — spoke  mighty  con- 
fidentially to  a  couple  of  us,  saying  that  if 
their  own  prisoners  could  be  depended  on 
to  hold  their  tongues  as  well  as  we  did  they 
would  have  less  trouble. 

About  five  o'clock  we  were  herded  out 
again,  marched  to  the  freight  yards,  and 
loaded  on  cattle  trucks.  These  were  what 
they  had  moved  their  own  troops  in,  or  had 
used  for  the  transfer  of  Belgian  civilians. 
There  were  some  rough  seats  but  not  enough 
to  accommodate  the  forty  men  allotted  to 
each  car.  When  the  train  was  about  to  pull 
out  somebody  started  to  sing  that  glorious 
classic,  "It's  a  long  way  to  old  Tip."  Say. 
It  was  funny  to  see  the  sentries  rushing 
around,  shoving  their  bayonets  in  through 

[391 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

the  bars  as  if  we  were  a  lot  of  cattle.  Meant 
some  tall  dodging  for  us,  too.  But  as  soon 
as  they'd  quiet  down  one  car  and  go  on  to 
the  next  all  the  trouble  would  start  over 
again. 

From  five  that  afternoon  till  two  the  next 
was  spent  in  that  car.  Nothing  to  eat.  No 
water.  Do  you  wonder  I  remember  that 
meal  of  pea  soup?  The  country?  We  were 
too  sick  and  sore  to  look  at  it.  Besides  it 
was  Germany.  We  didn't  want  to  see  it.  Of 
course  that  train  travelled  like  an  express. 
Nixy.  We  were  freight,  and  travelled  about 
as  fast  as  some  of  the  coal  coming  out  of 
Buffalo  this  winter.  Oh,  what  a  night! 

However,  we  existed.  There  wasn't  much 
else  to  it.  And  about  two  they  unloaded 
us — cattle,  you  see — on  a  railway  station 
platform  to  be  "fed  and  watered."  Intro- 
ductions were  frequent  these  days.  Just 
there  we  met  up  for  the  first  time  with  an- 
other concoction  which  later  we  found  was 
in  plain  English  dubbed  "sandstorm."  It 
was  really  a  sort  of  thin  porridge  made  from 
cornmeal  with  a  few  rotten  figs  for  flavor- 

[40] 


STRAFED  AND  CAPTURED 

ing — and  the  sand.  Somehow  or  other  the 
sand  always  formed  a  large  portion  of  the 
ingredients  of  this  dainty.  We  flirted  with  it 
often.  Sometimes  were  mighty  glad  to  do  so. 
Personally  I  suspect  the  food  contractor  of 
a  nice  little  bit  of  graft.  Sand  in  rotten  figs 
or  cornmeal  bulks  'em  up  nicely,  you  know. 
Perhaps  the  joke  was  just  on  us. 

After  this  great  feed  we  were  prodded 
into  the  cars  again  and  travelled  for  another 
night — or  till  about  4  A.M.  I  slept  that 
night,  not  so  badly  either,  standing  up.  We 
had  to  let  the  worse-wounded  fellows  lie 
down  a  little  while. 

In  the  morning  about  dawn  we  were  un- 
loaded— not  sorry,  either — formed  in  fours, 
and  marched  about  six  miles  to  Dulman 
prison  camp. 

This  march,  of  course,  was  in  Germany 
in  the  province  of  Westphalia,  and  while 
we  were  not  so  badly  treated  as  some  of 
the  fellows  we  met  later,  there  was  no  love 
going  to  waste  in  the  eyes  of  the  civilians 
we  met  along  the  road.  They  sneered,  of 
course — and  the  German  is  some  sneerer? 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

let  me  tell  you — and  called  us  Englische 
Schweinehunde,  and  a  few  other  similar 
things.  But  they  didn't  cut  much  figure 
with  us.  By  that  time  we  were  wondering 
what  sort  of  thing  Mr.  Fritz  had  in  for  us. 
We  got  the  first  glimpse  of  the  camp  from 
about  half  a  mile  away.  It  stood  on  a  knoll, 
and  when  we  saw  the  sentries  passing 
along  outside  the  rows  of  wire,  it  hit  me 
that  there  was  mighty  little  chance  of  get- 
ting out  of  a  spot  like  that. 

Dulman  camp  was  really  a  quarantine  sta- 
tion where  the  prisoners  were  held  for  two  or 
three  weeks,  to  catch  any  case  of  disease, 
before  being  sent  on  to  other  working  camps. 

When  we  got  into  the  camp  we  were 
greeted  by  a  chorus  of  yells  from  other 
British  prisoners  who  were  there  before  us. 
Then  we  were  put  into  tents  in  the  enclosure. 
Another  historic  incident  occurred  here. 
We  were  given  our  first  bowl  of  Steckrilbe  or 
turnip  soup.  Since  this  delicacy  became  a 
sort  of  staple  afterward,  we  were  destined  to 
get  well  acquainted  with  it  before  we  left 
Central  Europe. 

[42] 


CHAPTER  II 

HOW  I   GOT   INTO   DIFFICULTIES 

Corporal  Me  Mullen  speaks: 

MY  turn  to  go  in  that  notable  week  came 
along  on  May  29th,  and  about  twelve  P.M. 
we  snipers  started  for  147  Trench  to  relieve. 
We  found  the  communication  trenches  full 
of  men  coming  back,  making  it  out  of  the 
question  to  get  through,  so  had  to  work  up 
to  Trench  56  and  from  there  down  through 
the  front  line  to  147.  I  had  a  message  for 
Colonel  Dennison  who  I  expected  to  find  in 
the  Headquarters  of  the  4th  C.M.R.,  but 
when  I  got  there  he  wasn't  to  be  found.  So 
I  jumped  over  the  parados  and  struck  back 
to  the  snipers'  dugout.  There  was  some 
little  strafing  that  day  but  nothing  unusual, 
and  things  stayed  about  like  that  till  the 
morning  of  June  2d. 

[43l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

I  had  been  up  on  duty  all  night — that's 
when  we  did  most  of  our  shooting — and 
about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  went 
back  to  the  dugout,  made  a  cup  of  tea,  and 
went  to  "kip"  (sleep).  I  suppose  I  had 
slept  about  half  an  hour  when  a  big  trench 
mortar  lit  beside  a  road  running  just  past 
our  post  and  about  twenty  yards  away. 
That  shook  the  ground  like  a  leaf.  They 
began  to  come  over  all  around  us  then  so 
I  thought  it  better  to  get  out  and  go  up  to 
the  front  line.  On  the  way  up  I  met  Jack 
Ward,  one  of  my  friends,  and  asked  him  if 
he  thought  we  were  in  for  some  heavy  fire. 
"Oh  no,"  he  said.  "It's  just  a  few  trench 
mortars  to  waken  us  up."  He  said  that 
he  was  going  back,  for  the  Germans  had  the 
range  on  the  communication  trenches  and 
were  shooting  down  them  like  snakes.  I 
thought  it  would  be  better  to  get  up  into 
the  front  line,  which  I  made  tracks  for,  but 
merely  got  into  it  when  a  "Minnie"  came 
over,  burying  two  fellows  just  beside  me 
and  knocking  me  over.  You  know  when 
a  shell  hits  within  say  ten  or  twelve  feet,  the 

[441 


INTO  DIFFICULTIES 

concussion  smacks  you  nice  and  solid  first, 
while  the  earth  goes  up  all  around  you  and 
comes  down  again  before  you  can  move. 

I  helped  to  dig  these  chaps  out  and  then 
the  "Minnies"  began  to  come  over  thick. 
They  had  us  enfiladed,  and  when  we  watched 
for  them  coming,  so  as  to  dodge  'em  when 
possible,  we  could  see  them  cross  in  the  air. 
We  kept  running  along  the  trench  on  which 
the  Germans  turned  a '  hail  from  their 
machine  guns  and  in  a  little  while  it  got  so 
bad  we  couldn't  dodge  around  any  longer. 
We  started  back  down  a  communication 
trench,  thinking  things  might  be  better, 
but  found  it,  if  anything,  worse.  It  was  a 
mighty  hot  pickle  to  be  in — the  worst  shell- 
ing by  far  that  part  of  the  line  had  ever  had. 
About  forty  times,  I  think,  I  only  escaped 
absolute  annihilation  by  a  few  feet.  Finally 
when  we  had  about  all  endurance  could  put 
up  with,  I  saw  a  big  shell  hole  beside  the 
trench  and  said  to  Flynn,  another  sniper, 
and  a  man  from  the  33d,  who  by  the  way 
had  just  come  in  and  naturally  was  feeling 
pretty  "windy":  "Look  here,  we  might  as 

[451 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

well  be  in  the  open  as  in  here.  A  shell 
doesn't  often  hit  in  the  same  place.  Maybe 
we'll  be  better  off  out  there." 

They  agreed  and  we  beat  it  over  and 
settled  down  nice  and  comfortable  in  the 
bottom  waiting — we  didn't  know  for  what. 
We  had  been  in  there  about  four  minutes 
when  a  big  ten-inch  brute  lit  right  in  the 
middle  of  us.  When  I  came  to,  some  time 
after,  I  found  myself  out  of  the  hole  and 
over  quite  a  bit  nearer  the  road.  Poor 
Flynn  had  disappeared — you'll  know  how. 
The  33d  man  was  lying  near  me  groaning. 
He'd  been  cut  up  in  the  legs  pretty  badly 
with  shrapnel.  At  first  I  didn't  know  there 
was  much  wrong  with  me,  thought  the  dull- 
ness I  felt  was  shell  shock.  So  I  crawled 
over  to  the  other  chap  and  asked  him  how 
bad  he  had  it.  Only  then  did  I  discover 
the  hole  in  my  back.  At  that  time  I  hadn't 
any  idea  how  bad  it  was.  A  chunk  of  shell 
about  two  inches  long  went  through  me 
just  above  the  hip,  a  little  to  one  side,  and 
bored  a  hole  as  big  as  a  good-sized  fist.  It's 
a  wonder  it  didn't  finish  me  on  the  spot. 

[46] 


INTCX  DIFFICULTIES 

As  if  that  wasn't  enough,  another  chunk 
poked  a  good-sized  hole  just  at  the  edge  of 
my  right  eye.  You  can  see  there  now  where 
it's  healed  up.  I  got  out  my  first-aid  kit 
and  tried  to  get  on  a  bandage,  but  by  that 
time  I  was  getting  stiff  and  it  was  impossible 
to  do  anything.  Even  yet  I  hadn't  suffered 
any  pain  to  speak  of.  I  got  enough  of  that 
later,  though. 

I  lay  down  again — there  was  nothing  else 
to  do — and  just  then  a  barrage  fire  opened. 
I  couldn't  tell  whose  it  was,  since  the  Ger- 
man artillery  was  pretty  well  around  us, 
but  those  big  shells  seemed  to  come  in  from 
every  direction.  There  was  probably  some 
dose  from  both  sides.  Anyway  those  big 
fellows  came  down  all  around  us.  And  the 
detonation.  I  thought  I  was  pretty  well 
used  to  it  by  that  time,  but  what  we'd 
had  before  wasn't  a  patch  to  this.  Even  at 
that  I  guess  I  must  have  been  half-stunned 
from  the  big  one  in  the  hole.  I'd  lost 
my  helmet  when  I  was  hoisted  out  of  the 
trench  and  I  won't  soon  forget  how  my  eyes 
got  full  of  mud  from  those  shells.  That  will 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

give  you  some  idea  how  close  they  were. 
The  stuff  peppered  me  all  over.  I  remem- 
ber there  was  a  patch  of  woods  to  the  left 
and  I  could  see  the  trees  being  mowed  down 
one  by  one.  How  the  mischief  one  of  those 
shells  didn't  hit  me  as  I  lay  there  is  the 
biggest  mystery  I  know. 

Finally  I  saw  the  Germans  charging  over 
from  the  left.  You  see  they  had  broken 
through  all  round,  our  front  trench  was 
levelled  and  they  seemed  to  be  trying  to 
clear  out  something  to  the  right. 

Just  about  then,  too,  it  must  have  been 
around  noon,  a  mine  went  off  a  few  hundred 
yards  to  the  left.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
the  ground  shook  like  a  small  boat  does  in  a 
rough  sea.  I  thought  the  whole  earth  was 
turning  upside  down.  We  found  out  after- 
ward from  one  of  the  fellows  who  was  nearer 
that  the  Germans  had  run  a  tunnel  right 
under  our  front  trench  and  some  consider- 
able distance  behind  it,  trying  to  get  under 
our  Battalion  Headquarters.  However,  they 
didn't  get  quite  far  enough.  By  this  time 
there  wasn't  anybody  left  at  Headquarters 

[48] 


INTO  DIFFICULTIES 

though,  so  it  wouldn't  have  made  much 
difference. 

Well,  that  charge  went  over  me,  and  after 
a  while  the  Fritzies  came  back  and  started 
to  "dig  in"  not  more  than  ten  feet  away. 
They  seemed  to  have  reached  their  objec- 
tive but  for  some  reason  didn't  hold  where 
they  were. 

How  did  I  feel  about  it?  Well,  by  that 
time  I  was  too  sick  to  care  much  about  any- 
thing. I  had  been  lying  there  since  early 
morning,  scarcely  able  to  move,  had  lost 
a  good  deal  of  blood  and  was  beginning  to 
suffer  mighty  acutely. 

One  big  German  who  seemed  surprisingly 
kind  spotted  me  and  stopped,  asking  if  I 
were  wounded.  I  wondered  if  there  was 
any  chance  of  getting  him  to  dress  the  big 
wound  for  me,  so  showed  it  him.  When  he 
looked  he  held  up  three  fingers  and  said, 
' '  Drei. ' '  It  appeared,  as  I  afterwards  found 
to  be  the  case,  that  there  were  three  holes 
through  me  instead  of  one,  as  I  had  thought. 

When  I  showed  him  the  bandage  and 
motioned  for  him  to  put  it  on  he  shook  his 

4  [49] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

head.  I  suppose  I  couldn't  blame  him 
much  for  our  shells  kept  on  lighting  all 
around.  He  did  give  me  a  drink  of  water 
and  a  cigarette.  That  swig  of  water  seemed 
to  clear  out  my  mind  a  bit  and  I  lay  there 
on  my  side  watching  those  beggars  digging 
in. 

One  other  fellow  out  of  the  bunch  called 
out  "Kamerad,  wounded  ?"  I  beckoned 
for  him  to  come  out  to  help  me  but  not  a 
foot  would  he  come. 

When  it  began  to  get  dark  I  knew  I  would 
have  to  do  something  or  I  would  be  dead 
in  the  morning  so  I  called  over  to  the  other 
chap  to  see  if  he  were  still  alive — he  had 
lain  as  if  asleep  all  day — and  told  him  I  was 
going  to  try  to  get  into  the  German  trench. 
Of  course  our  position  was  all  busted  up, 
I  knew  there  wasn't  a  chance  in  a  billion  of 
anybody  from  our  lines  getting  to  me,  and 
the  Germans  had  had  things  so  much  their 
own  way  that  there  seemed  no  Red  Cross 
men  around  anywhere. 

Never  will  I  forget  that  night.  It  took 
me  three  quarters  of  an  hour  to  get  over 

[50] 


INTO  DIFFICULTIES 

that  ten  feet.  Every  move  was  an  agony. 
Every  nerve  in  me  seemed  to  be  strained 
to  the  limit.  A  dozen  times  I  quit,  think- 
ing I  might  as  well  die  out  there  as  any- 
where else,  but,  as  they  say,  life  is  sweet 
when  there's  even  a  chance  for  it,  so  I 
managed  to  get  together  resolution  enough 
to  keep  on.  Finally,  I  got  close  enough  so 
that  one  or  two  of  them  reached  out  and 
pulled  me  in.  Even  at  that  they  let  me 
flop  down  on  the  bottom  of  the  trench  like 
a  sandbag. 

The  other  chap  got  in  a  little  later.  He 
was  only  hurt  in  the  legs  but  had  been  very 
weak.  They  carried  him  off  behind  some- 
where and  I  never  heard  of  him  again. 

I  lay  there,  with  those  dirty  beggars 
walking  over  and  around  me  for  perhaps 
half  an  hour,  when  two  big  fellows  came 
along  and  picked  me  up,  one  by  the  legs, 
the  other  by  the  arms.  I  felt  as  if  I  was 
pulling  in  half  and  hollered  like  a  bull.  The 
hollering  didn't  affect  them  any,  however, 
and  they  carried  me  back  through  a  commu- 
nication trench  to  the  former  German  lines. 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

After  a  bit,  about  eleven  o'clock,  I  guess, 
they  carried  me  back  about  half  a  mile 
farther.  At  that  time  our  old  shells  were 
whizzing  over  the  line  and  they  sounded 
mighty  good  to  me.  They  apparently  had 
orders  to  take  me  still  farther,  but  their 
trenches  were  getting  bad  by  this  time  and 
they  were  afraid  to  cross  the  open  spots. 
They  hesitated  for  a  long  while  and  finally 
took  me  into  a  big  dugout  which  seemed  to 
be  a  sort  of  second-line  dressing  station. 
Here  they  put  some  sort  of  a  big  dry  band- 
age on  me  and  tossed  me  over  on  a  bench. 
I  went  out  of  my  head  for  a  while,  I  guess,  for 
I  seemed  to  wake  up  and  hear  a  familiar 
voice.  "I  know  that  guy,"  I  thought,  and 
when  I  mustered  up  resolution  enough  to 
turn  my  head  I  saw  Corporal  Thornton, 
from  "A"  Company  of  my  own  battalion, 
a  Toronto  boy,  by  the  way,  who  had  also 
been  badly  wounded  a  little  farther  up  the 
line.  He  sat  down  on  the  floor  beside  me. 

Every  once  in  a  while  a  bunch  of  Germans 
would  come  in  for  minor  dressings.  That 
was  our  first  sight  of  them  when  they  weren't 

[52] 


1 
t 
I 
I 

3 

o 


"S 


INTO  DIFFICULTIES 

on  duty,  and  we  didn't  think  much  of  it. 
Why,  they  carried  on  like  a  bunch  of  kids, 
moaning  and  crying  over  nothing.  Say, 
they  fussed  like  babies  over  little  cuts  that 
our  fellows  would  laugh  at  and  fix  up  them- 
selves. While  they  were  waiting  to  get  fixed 
up  they  would  come  across,  look  us  over,  and 
call  us  names.  On  the  whole,  though,  after 
some  things  we  had  heard,  we  were  rather 
surprised  that  we  were  left  so  much  alone. 

That  was  a  cheery  spot  all  right,  that 
dugout.  When  I  was  feeling  pretty  bad, 
well  along  into  the  night,  I  happened  to 
look  up  above  me  and  saw,  what  do  you 
think — a  lot  of  R.I.P.  crosses  stored  there 
all  ready  for  use  on  the  graves  of  the  poor 
beggars  who  were  planted  around  in  the 
vicinity.  Oh  yes,  the  Germans  are  good 
organizers,  all  right. 

In  spite  of  it  all  we  managed  to  sleep  a 
little.  Perhaps  it  was  as  much  unconscious- 
ness as  sleep.  Remember  I  hadn't  had  a 
bite  to  eat  for  over  thirty  hours  and  only 
one  drink,  and  that  out  of  a  German  water 
bottle,  in  that  time. 

[53] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

I  won't  forget  how  I  was  waked  up  or 
brought  back  to  consciousness  somewhere 
about  dawn,  either.  One  of  our  big  shells 
plowed  its  way  down  through  the  earth 
above,  hit  the  corner  of  the  dugout  opposite 
us,  and  exploded.  Funny  what  those  big 
fellows  do.  This  one  lifted  Thornton  clean 
out  of  the  door,  and  kicked  me  around,  so 
that  I  got  a  good  sharp  crack  on  the  head 
against  a  supporting  pillar.  I  think  it 
killed  a  couple  of  Germans.  Of  course  the 
lights  went  out  and  I  couldn't  tell  very 
well  what  happened.  I  do  know  the  rest 
of  the  beggars  went  shrieking  out  into  the 
trench.  I  got  out  of  the  rubbish  somehow 
or  other  after  a  while  and  out  into  the  trench 
beside  Thornton,  and  there  we  lay  till  about 
three  that  afternoon.  All  this  time  the 
Germans  were  passing  up  and  down  though 
it  was  fairly  quiet.  Once  a  high  officer  and 
a  sergeant-major  stopped,  looked  at  us, 
called  us  a  few  dirty  names,  but  didn't 
interfere  with  us.  We  were  mighty  lucky, 
I  guess,  though  neither  of  us  cared  much, 
just  then,  what  happened.  They  couldn't 

[54] 


INTO  DIFFICULTIES 

have  done  anything  to  us  which  would  have 
caused  any  greater  agony  than  we  were 
suffering  then. 

When  I  thought  I  had  been  dead  a  dozen 
times  over,  a  couple  of  privates  came  along 
with  a  pole  and  a  heavy  sheet  and  carried 
us — nice  and  smoothly,  I  don't  think — to 
another  dressing  station.  Ever  been  carried 
this  way  even  when  you  were  fit?  Try  it 
and  see  how  it  feels. 

Here  we  came  under  a  doctor's  hands  for 
the  first  time.  They  took  off  my  clothes 
and  after  an  inoculation  dumped  me  on  an 
operating  table  and  cleaned  out  my  wounds. 
Taken  all  in  all  I  have  been  rather  surprised, 
when  I've  stopped  to  think  about  it  since, 
at  the  fairly  decent  treatment  I  got  there. 
The  doctor  was  rough,  of  course,  but  I 
guess  not  any  more  so  than  was  to  be  ex- 
pected. They  gave  me  a  little  tote  of  rum, 
too,  which  helped  me  through  this. 

About  six  o'clock  four  big  chaps  came 
along  with  stretchers  and  carried  us  back 
perhaps  a  mile  to  an  ambulance.  From 
here,  with  Thornton  above  me,  we  were 

[55] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

carried,  rather  more  comfortable  than  pre- 
viously, into  Menin  and  there  placed  in  a 
sort  of  hospital  in  the  waiting  room  of  the 
railway  station.  There  were  about  thirty 
of  us  altogether,  mostly  Germans,  in  that 
room,  and  so  far  as  I  could  see  we  Canadians 
got  the  same  treatment  as  the  Germans  did. 
One  of  the  doctors  who  examined  me  here 
suggested  that  I  give  him  a  wrist  watch,  a 
present  from  my  mother.  Foolishly,  I 
guess,  I  handed  it  over,  but  was  mighty 
sorry  afterward. 

I  slept  fairly  well  that  night,  lying  on 
sacking  stretched  over  a  wooden  framework, 
but  was  still  feeling  pretty  sick  in  the  morn- 
ing, for  when  they  came  around  with  a  bowl 
of  coffee  and  a  piece  of  bread  I  didn't  want 
any.  We  lay  there  till  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  when  we  were  carried  out  to  a 
train  and  put  aboard.  That  was  the  most 
comfortable  place  I  had  struck  for  a  good 
while.  They  were  regular  compartment 
coaches,  but  the  long  seats  made  pretty  fair 
beds,  much  more  so  than  our  American 
coaches  would  do.  Here  we  were  given  a 

[56] 


INTO  DIFFICULTIES 

bowl  of  soup,  and  some  bread  and  coffee. 
By  this  time  I  was  about  ready  for  some 
kind  of  food  and  enjoyed  it.  From  then 
we  travelled  off  and  on  till  we  got  into  Cour- 
trai,  a  historic  spot  near  the  French  border, 
in  the  early  morning. 

Courtrai,  we  found,  meant  our  first  hospi- 
tal experience,  for  Thornton  and  I  were 
taken  to  what  had  formerly  been  a  Belgian 
institution  and  put  in  a  ward  where  a  few 
of  our  fellows  were  already  installed.  The 
first  thing  we  heard  when  they  carried  us 
in  was  a  cheery  voice  singing  out  from  one 
of  the  beds:  "Hooray!  how's  old  Canada 
getting  on  ?  "  It  was  a  chap  named  McKay, 
from  Fort  William,  who  had  been  brought 
in  some  time  before. 

We  were  in  this  place  four  days,  during 
which  time  I  was  taken  to  the  operating 
table  again  and  given  some  more  fixing  up. 
The  doctor  here  certainly  knew  his  business. 
Like  all  the  German  doctors  he  was  rough, 
but  he  seemed  to  know  what  he  was  doing 
and  I  felt  satisfied  that  he  did  all  that 
was  possible  for  me.  We  had  Belgian  and 

[57] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

German  nurses  here,  both  of  whom  were 
kind  and  attentive.  Other  fellows  I've  met 
tell  me  I  struck  it  lucky.  Perhaps  I  did. 
I  had  nothing  to  complain  of  here  and  cer- 
tainly saw  nothing  of  the  barbarities  prac- 
ticed on  prisoners  such  as  they  told  of. 

In  the  same  hospital,  by  the  way,  in  a 
ward  above  us,  General  Williams,  who  had 
been  wounded  and  captured  in  the  same 
engagement,  was  under  treatment  at  the 
time. 

Just  when  we  were  beginning  to  feel  a 
little  at  home  here  we  were  shifted  again, 
this  time  down  to  Duisburg,  which  seemed 
to  be  a  sort  of  hospital  center.  This  time 
we  were  interested  in  being  transferred  to 
a  German  hospital  train  of  fifteen  Red 
Cross  coaches,  the  patients  including  both 
Germans  and  prisoners.  These  cars  had 
every  provision  for  comfort  and  so  far  as 
that  goes  things  were  not  objectionable. 
The  doctors  were  not  by  any  means  so 
kindly  here,  though.  They  used  to  come 
through  and,  apparently  for  mere  curiosity, 
examine  our  wounds.  By  this  time  the 

[58] 


INTO  DIFFICULTIES 

wound  in  my  back,  in  spite  of  the  somewhat 
heroic  treatment  given  it,  had  begun  to  look 
pretty  bad,  I  guess.  These  fellows  used  to 
turn  me  over  to  look  at  me,  give  a  very 
expressive  "Ugh!"  from  away  down  in 
their  throats,  and  pass  along.  Some  com- 
fort, wasn't  it?  I  found  out  later,  when 
things  looked  a  little  brighter,  that  I  had 
been  tabulated  as  the  worst  case  among 
fifteen  other  British  prisoners  who  were 
being  carried  on  that  train. 

I  had  a  good  meal  on  that  train  too,  the 
best  meal  I  had  in  Germany — potatoes, 
carrots,  cabbage,  and  a  very  little  boiled 
beef.  They  offered  us  bread,  too,  but  we 
couldn't  touch  it  then.  That  sounds  pretty 
good.  And  that's  just  the  way  it  tasted. 
But — I  only  had  such  a  meal  once. 

Arriving  at  Duisburg  we  were  put  into 
electric  trolleys  with  a  double  row  of  ham- 
mocks in  place  of  the  seats  which  had  been 
removed  and  from  these  transferred  to  a 
big  hospital. 

It  helped  a  whole  lot  that  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  fall  in  with  friends  a  good  deal 

[59] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

of  the  time  during  these  hospital  experi- 
ences. While  they  put  Thornton  into  an- 
other ward  here  I  was  surprised  to  find, 
when  I  was  carried  into  a  small  room 
with  five  beds,  that  I  knew  one  of  the  men, 
Sergeant  Darby.  Corporal  Botel  and  a 
young  lad  named  Carnahan  occupied  other 
beds. 

They  took  me  to  an  operating  room  again, 
here — by  this  time  I  began  to  get  used  to 
that  side  of  the  business — and  an  old  doctor, 
the  younger  ones  all  seemed  to  be  at  the 
front,  attended  to  me.  The  nurses  here 
were  young  girls,  apparently  without  a  great 
deal  of  experience,  probably  corresponding 
to  our  V.A.D.'s.  Some  of  them  were  kind 
enough  but  the  most  of  them  showed  that 
they  didn't  bear  any  particular  love  for  us. 
I  suppose  it  was  only  natural,  but  it  did 
seem  rather  hard  to  have  one  of  those  girls 
— one  or  two  of  them  were  mighty  attrac- 
tive— smile  ironically  and  sneer,  when  the 
dressing  was  particularly  painful.  In  a 
second  operation  they  took  out  of  my  back 
a  piece  of  my  leather  belt  which  had  been 

[60] 


INTO  DIFFICULTIES 

carried  in  with  the  chunk  of  shell  and  most 
of  the  way  through  me. 

Here  for  the  first  time  we  got  an  idea  of 
what  the  Germans  themselves  were  think- 
ing of  the  war.  In  three  or  four  weeks  I  got 
so  I  could  get  around  a  little  on  crutches, 
and  a  few  of  us  used  to  be  allowed  out  in  a 
little  court  in  the  hospital  yard.  Here  one 
day  I  got  into  conversation  with  a  sentry, 
a  soldier  who  had  been  on  both  the  Russian 
and  the  Western  fronts.  By  this  time  I 
had  picked  up  a  little  German  and  he  knew 
a  little  English  so  we  could  understand  one 
another  fairly  well.  He  told  me  that  he 
had  his  orders  to  return  to  France  shortly, 
but  that  he  was  heartily  sick  of  the  whole 
thing  and  was  ready  to  do  anything  to  get 
out  of  it.  Three  other  wounded  men  I  got 
in  touch  with  incidentally  were  sent  back 
even  before  they  were  anyway  fit.  They 
told  me  that  this  was  the  way  it  worked  in 
Germany.  That  every  man  was  used,  even 
if  he  had  an  arm  off. 

Our  food  was  mainly  soup  and  bread. 
Thin  soup,  made  from  turnips  or  potatoes, 

[61] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

with  once  in  a  long  while  a  very  little  meat. 
Occasionally,  for  a  change,  we  got  a  little 
rice.  Not  the  kind  your  mother  used  to 
give  you,  full  of  raisins  with  a  sprinkle  of 
brown  sugar  all  over  the  top.  No  indeed. 
We  got  only  the  pure  stuff,  without  sweet- 
ening of  any  kind,  and  were  mighty  glad 
to  get  that. 

What  we  got  wasn't  so  bad,  but  we  didn't 
get  half  enough  and  were  hungry  all  the 
time.  Do  you  know  anything  of  what  that 
feeling  is?  This  was  before  our  Red  Cross 
parcels  began  to  come  in  to  us  and  we  had 
absolutely  nothing  but  what  they  allowed 
us.  Once,  after  talking  it  over,  we  made  a 
complaint  to  the  Hospital  Commandant, 
who  seemed  to  be  not  such  a  bad  old  fellow, 
and,  so  that  he  couldn't  accuse  us  of  being 
unreasonable,  asked  if  we  could  have  a 
little  larger  bread  allowance. 

1 '  More  bread ?  "  he  said,  in  reply.  ' '  You 
can  thank  Lloyd  George  for  what  you  have 
got.  At  that  you  are  getting  as  much  as 
we  are.  All  we  are  allowed  is  a  half-pound 
a  day." 

[62] 


INTO  DIFFICULTIES 

He  seemed  to  be  telling  the  truth  and 
from  what  we  learned  afterward  I  guess  he 
was.  So  we  thought  we  were  pretty  lucky 
and  quit  kicking.  We  found  out  a  few 
months  later  how  lucky  we  really  were. 

In  another  ward  of  the  same  hospital 
were  a  number  of  Frenchmen  and  just  at 
this  time  they  were  getting  a  good  deal  of 
stuff  in  from  home— biscuits,  bread,  tobacco, 
and  such  stuff.  One  of  these  poilus,  who 
shared  up  his  tobacco  and  biscuits  with  us, 
used  to  show  us  what  came  in  his  biscuits. 
He  would  run  his  knife  in  and  locate  a  piece 
of  money  every  time. 

To  be  fair,  I  think  I  should  tell  about 
the  civilians  who  came  to  see  us  occasion- 
ally. Duisburg  is  a  place  of  100,000  I  sup- 
pose, a  manufacturing  center  on  the  Rhine, 
and  the  people  seemed  to  be  fairly  well  off, 
though  they  certainly  had  no  food  to  spare. 
Sometimes  on  Sunday  afternoons  some  of 
the  women  would  come  in  to  see  us.  They 
seemed  to  like  to  talk  about  Canada,  ap- 
peared to  be  quite  friendly,  and  quite  often 
expressed  sympathy  for  us.  Occasionally 

[63] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

they  gave  us  a  cigarette  apiece,  and  once 
or  twice  they  gave  us  ten  or  fifteen  pfennigs 
in  money.  From  a  verandah  to  which  we 
had  access  we  could  hail  the  passing  chil- 
dren and  we  used  to  get  them  to  go  and  buy 
cigarettes  for  us  when  we  had  money.  We 
expected  at  first  that  we  wouldn't  see  them 
again,  but  invariably  they  came  back  with 
our  supply.  Occasionally,  too,  some  musi- 
cians came  around  to  the  hospital  and 
helped  to  while  away  an  hour  or  two.  Of 
course  they  played  for  their  own  men,  not 
for  us,  but  we  enjoyed  it  just  the  same. 


[64 


CHAPTER  III 

FROM  HOSPITAL  TO  PRISON  CAMP 

Corporal  MacMullen  continues: 

WE  thought  while  we  were  at  Duisburg 
we  were  having  a  pretty  hard  time.  So  we 
were,  so  far  as  getting  enough  to  eat  was 
concerned.  Outside  of  that  I  suppose  there 
wasn't  very  much  to  complain  about.  But, 
unhappily,  the  Duisburg  experiences  didn't 
last  long. 

I  was  at  the  hospital  about  seven  weeks 
and  at  the  end  was  getting  so  I  could  get 
along,  with  difficulty,  without  crutches. 
One  morning  we  were  issued  new  uniforms, 
mine  being  that  of  a  German  sailor,  one 
or  two  of  the  other  chaps  being  arrayed 
in  Belgian  privates'  clothes.  We  knew 
that  meant  something  new  and  that  some- 
thing was  not  long  in  coming.  That  day 

[65] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

fifteen  of  us  Canadians,  with  some  other 
prisoners,  were  put  aboard  the  train  and 
after  a  three-hour  trip  were  landed  near 
Wesel,  in  sight  of,  but  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  away  from,  Friedrichsfeld  Camp,  the 
second  largest  prison  camp  and  one  of  the 
largest  military  training  camps  in  Germany. 
Here  I  was  destined  to  spend  a  good  deal  of 
my  time  during  the  next  fourteen  months. 

That  mile  and  a  half  was  the  spot  that 
broke  the  camel's  back  all  right.  We  had 
to  walk  it  and  carry  whatever  we  had  with 
us.  Since  I  had  only  been  off  crutches  a 
week  or  so  and  done  little  moving  around 
at  that,  you  won't  be  surprised  that  I  was 
about  all  in  when  we  finally  reached  the 
camp. 

And  here  I  began  to  really  realize  that  I 
was  a  prisoner.  The  camp  proper  occupied 
about  a  square  mile  on  a  flat  plain  sur- 
rounded by  bush.  At  intervals  observation 
posts,  in  the  shape  of  wooden  towers,  were 
placed  and  in  these  we  could  see  sentries 
behind  machine  guns.  The  prisoners'  en- 
closure was  surrounded  by  two  rows  of 

[66] 


PRISON   CAMP 

barbed  wire  about  ten  feet  high,  strung  on 
posts  four  feet  apart,  and  between  these  was, 
as  we  learned  later,  more  wire  electrically 
charged. 

We  Canadians  were  taken  first  to  a  room 
outside  the  camp  itself  and  questioned  as  to 
our  knowledge  of  military  matters.  I  don't 
think  they  got  much  out  of  us,  though. 
Then  we  were  marched  into  the  camp  and 
allotted  to  No.  2B  barrack,  which  proved 
to  be  a  wooden  hut,  about  three  hundred 
feet  long,  thirty-five  feet  wide,  and  fifteen 
feet  high,  and  arranged  to  accommodate 
six  hundred  men.  Since  there  were  ten 
thousand  prisoners  in  the  camp  at  the  time, 
you  can  imagine  how  many  of  these  barracks 
there  were  and  what  a  size  the  place  was. 
In  addition  to  these  there  were  seventy  or 
eighty  thousand  prisoners  attached  to  the 
camp,  who  had  been  through  it  but  were 
placed  out  at  work  on  the  farms  and  in 
various  factories. 

We  found  about  forty  other  Canadians  in 
the  barracks,  together  with  a  number  of 
Englishmen.  In  the  camp  at  this  time, 

[67] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

however,  there  were  also  Australians,  New 
Zealanders,  South  Africans,  an  occasional 
Sikh  and  Gurka,  and  also  French,  Algerians, 
Arabs,  and  Russians.  Afterwards  a  number 
of  Belgian  civilians  were  also  put  in  the 
same  camp.  Quite  a  cosmopolitan  gather- 
ing, you  see.  They  tried  to  keep  the  differ- 
ent classes  together  as  much  as  possible. 

Where  possible,  a  non-com,  was  put  in 
charge  of  each  barracks,  and  we  soon  got 
acquainted  with  Sergeant-Major  Cullen- 
ham,  who  supervised  No.  2B.  He  and  the 
other  fellows  gave  us  what  food  and  tobacco 
they  could  spare.  They  had  been  getting 
Red  Cross  parcels,  you  see.  And  then  we 
were  told  that  we  would  shortly  be  examined 
as  to  our  physical  fitness.  When  he  saw 
what  shape  I  was  in,  Cullenham  advised 
me  to  try  to  be  as  sick  as  possible,  but  was 
not  very  encouraging  as  to  what  the  result 
would  be. 

The  next  morning  they  put  us  through 
this  examination.  And  I  can  assure  you 
that  it  wasn't  particularly  gentle.  I  could 
scarcely  hobble  around  at  all  so  I^didn't 

[68] 


PRISON  CAMP 

have  to  try  to  be  sick.  When  the  doctors 
sized  me  up  they  told  me  to  bend  over. 
I  honestly  tried  to  bend  as  far  as  I  could 
which  at  that  time  wasn't  very  far.  They 
demanded  that  I  bend  further,  and  when  I 
made  out  that  I  couldn't,  two  of  them 
grabbed  me  and  bent  me  almost  double.  It 
seemed  to  be  breaking  my  back  and  was 
so  bad  that  I  fainted  and  fell  on  the  floor. 
This  apparently  didn't  impress  them  much, 
however,  or  they  thought  I  was  malingering, 
for  they  placed  me  in  category  2B,  which 
meant  that  I  was  fit  for  "fatigue"  duty  in 
camp  and  outside.  Their  classes  seem  to 
correspond  pretty  well  with  those  fixed  by 
our  own  military  authorities,  but  naturally 
the  standard  was  applied  rather  differently 
in  the  case  of  prisoners.  The  fact  that  I 
had  my  corporal's  stripes  probably  had 
something  to  do  with  this  too. 

I  found  out  shortly  that  "fatigue"  duty 
was  to  be  no  sinecure.  At  first  it  meant 
shovelling  sand  and  laying  rails  for  travel- 
ling cranes. 

The  camp  had  originally  been  surrounded 

[69] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

by  a  moat  about  twenty-five  feet  wide  and 
fifteen  feet  deep,  presumably  as  an  added 
protection  against  escape.  We  were  told, 
however,  that  when  the  water  had  become 
stagnant,  some  time  before,  it  had  been 
condemned  as  a  menace  to  health  and  had 
been  drained.  It  was  partly  filled  in  and 
then  someone  seems  to  have  discovered 
that  a  projected  ship  canal  from  Dortmund, 
by  way  of  the  river  Lippe,  would  pass  near 
the  camp  and  that  this  moat  could  be 
used.  So  the  prisoners  were  set  to  digging 
it  out  again.  And  it  was  at  this  sort  of 
thing  that  I  was  first  set  to  work. 

You  can  imagine  that  I  wasn't  in  any 
shape  to  keep  at  work  like  this  steadily. 
At  times  I  simply  had  to  sit  down  to  rest 
my  back.  No  sooner  would  I  get  down, 
however,  than  a  guard  would  come  along 
who  would  poke  me  with  a  bayonet  and 
with  a  "Raus,  schwein  Englander!"  would 
force  me  to  get  up  again.  This  work  hit 
me  so  hard  that  when  we  were  allowed  into 
the  camp  for  lunch  and  supper  I  was  too 
sick  to  eat  anything,  but  just  lay  on  my 

[70] 


PRISON   CAMP 

bunk  in  agony,  wondering  how  much  longer 
I  could  stand  it. 

Once  I  went  down  at  the  Sergeant- 
Major's  advice  and  reported  sick.  They 
simply  looked  at  me,  said  "Gut,"  and  sent 
me  out  to  work  again. 

Occasionally  in  the  afternoons  I  got  a 
little  relief  when  they  put  me  at  peeling 
potatoes,  of  which  at  that  time  they  seemed 
to  have  a  fair  supply.  Even  at  that  they 
watched  us  mighty  closely  to  see  that  we 
took  off  thin  peelings.  Oh  they  were  mighty 
careful  about  food  all  right. 

What  did  we  get  to  eat?  Well,  for  break- 
fast, served  at  6  A.M.  we  got  coffee  made 
from  acorns.  It  was  simply  vile-tasting 
warm  water,  with  no  nourishment  what- 
ever. We  used  to  drink  water  in  prefer- 
ence, which,  thank  heaven,  we  did  get  lots 
of.  For  dinner,  at  twelve,  they  usually 
handed  out  turnips  or  mangels  boiled  into 
soup.  Once  in  a  long  while  this  was  thick 
and  somewhat  satisfying.  Usually  it  was 
thin  and  more  of  an  aggravation  than  any- 
thing else.  Bread  fatigue  was  called  at 

[71] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

two,  and  here  a  loaf  of  war  bread,  such  as 
Jack  has  described,  was  divided  among 
eleven  men.  The  allowance  was  two  hun- 
dred grammes  per  man,  which  would  be  the 
equivalent  of  a  fairly  thick  slice  from  one 
of  our  baker's  loaves.  We  got  this  at  six 
with  a  little  "sandstorm"  soup.  We  were 
supposed  to  save  the  bread,  or  part  of  it, 
for  breakfast,  but  when  it  was  at  all  eat- 
able nobody  could  ever  work  up  resolution 
enough  to  hang  on  to  any  of  it.  Often  it 
was  absolutely  uneatable.  At  least  we 
couldn't  manage  it.  We  could  always  dis- 
pose of  it,  however,  to  the  Russians,  who, 
poor  fellows,  seemed  to  suffer  dreadfully 
from  the  meager  ration  and  who  could  get 
away  with  anything.  Someway  or  other 
the  Russians  had  quite  a  bit  of  money 
among  them  and  were  always  ready  to  pay 
for  anything  we  might  give  them. 

But  the  continued  sensation  of  gnawing 
hunger  was  terrible.  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
the  Red  Cross  parcels  I  think  most  of  us 
would  have  died. 

How  did  the  parcels  get  to  us?    Well,  it 

[72] 


PRISON  CAMP 

was  really  a  remarkable  system.  Notifica- 
tion was  sent  to  Headquarters,  in  London  of 
every  British  prisoner  and  of  his  where- 
abouts. A  little  time  afterwards  he  re- 
ceived a  postal  card  of  inquiry,  asking  as  to 
the  sizes  of  clothing  and  boots.  Then  a 
parcel  containing  an  outfit  of  a  prisoner's 
uniform,  underclothing,  socks,  and  boots 
was  sent  in.  This  was  all  splendid  stuff. 
Why,  at  times  we  were  infinitely  better 
clothed  than  the  German  soldiers  in  the 
training  camp  near-by.  When  these  uni- 
forms came  in  the  Germans  would  cut  a 
chunk  out  of  the  right  sleeve  and  sew  a  strip 
of  red  in  here  and  also  up  the  back  of  the 
coat  as  well  as  on  the  trousers.  This  was 
for  identification,  of  course.  My  parcel 
of  clothing  did  not  come  along,  however, 
till  two  or  three  months  after  I  was  sent 
to  Friedrichsf  eld  Camp  and  I  was  in  terrible 
shape  till  this  reached  me. 

How  we  looked  forward,  though,  to  the 
food  parcels.  These  were  arranged  to  come 
in  every  fortnight.  Unfortunately,  how- 
ever, their  delivery  was  very  irregular. 

[73l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

Sometimes  we  got  eight  or  nine  parcels 
together.  You  can  imagine  how  "fine"  we 
had  been  before  this  and  how  we  lit  into 
them  when  a  bunch  did  arrive.  Of  course 
we  shared  up  with  one  another  and  that 
helped  along  a  good  deal. 

Say,  that  bully  beef  and  canned  salmon 
used  to  be  great.  You  see  we  were  getting 
absolutely  no  meat  in  our  ration,  and  while 
a  vegetarian  diet  may  be  all  right  if  you  Ve 
got  enough  of  it,  it  wasn't  very  attractive 
to  us  when  scanty,  particularly  after  we'd 
had  all  the  beef  and  bacon  and  mutton 
we  wanted  up  in  the  trenches.  The  food 
parcels  came  in  stout  wooden  boxes  sup- 
posed to  carry  about  thirty  pounds,  and 
besides  the  beef  and  salmon  we  got  oat- 
meal, rice,  dates,  tea  or  cocoa,  and  soap. 
That  soap  was  used  for  other  purposes  than 
washing  and  intrinsically  was  more  valuable 
to  us  than  we  had  ever  imagined.  That, 
however,  comes  in  later  on.  In  addition 
to  these  at  that  time,  we  got  occasional 
parcels  from  home.  Since  then,  that  has 
been  stopped. 

l74l 


PRISON  CAMP 

Didn't  the  Germans  steal  these  parcels? 
No,  I  don't  think  they  did,  very  often.  You 
see,  the  thing  was  arranged  pretty  well  to 
avoid  the  possibility  of  that.  The  stuff 
was  sent  from  England  to  Holland  and  put 
on  trains  there  by  British  interned  men. 
The  trains  came  right  over  the  border  and 
direct  to  the  camps  and  the  stuff  wasn't 
handled,  usually,  until  it  arrived.  Then 
some  of  our  men  were  detailed  to  get  it 
into  the  camp,  all  this  being  done  under 
the  sergeant-major's  inspection.  If  it  hadn't 
been  so  well  cased  up  I  suppose  there  would 
have  been  a  good  deal  of  it  missing  when 
it  reached  us,  but  it  was  pretty  hard  to  get 
inside  those  wooden  boxes  without  leav- 
ing a  trace.  Then,  you  see,  the  parcels  for 
each  man  were  numbered  consecutively. 
A  postal  card  would  be  sent,  announcing 
when  one  was  sent  to  you,  and  if  the  parcel 
did  not  arrive  in  what  seemed  reasonable 
time,  a  complaint  could  be  made.  I  don't 
think  I  missed  more  than  two  or  three  of 
my  parcels  all  the  time  I  was  in  Germany, 
and  these  may  have  been  used  by  some  of 

[751 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

the  boys  in  the  camp  while  I  was  out  on 
the  farms  outside. 

If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  awful  hunger 
and  the  depressed  feeling  that  we  were 
prisoners  I  suppose  we  should  have  con- 
sidered ourselves  fairly  comfortable  in  that 
camp.  There  were  several  ways  of  putting 
in  the  time, — what  little  we  had,  aside  from 
working. 

For  instance,  we  had  religious  services 
on  Wednesday  nights  and  twice  on  Sunday, 
conducted  by  Corporal  Oliver,  who  had 
been  a  preacher  in  England.  These  were 
held  in  a  little  hut  which  was  reserved  for 
the  purpose.  The  Church  of  England  ser- 
vice was  used,  principally,  I  suppose,  be- 
cause some  Prayer  Books  and  Hymn  Books 
to  go  with  it  had  been  sent  in.  We  used 
to  enjoy  these  services  too.  In  some  way 
they  seemed  to  mean  a  good  deal  more  to 
us  than  such  things  had  done  at  home. 

When  we  heard  that  one  or  two  of  our 
fellows  were  working  as  stonemasons  we 
were  interested  enough  to  inquire  further 
as  to  what  they  were  doing.  It  was  con- 

[76] 


PRISON  CAMP 

siderable  of  a  surprise  to  find  that  they 
were  cutting  gravestones.  And  thereby 
hangs  rather  an  interesting  story. 

Behind  the  camp  and  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  away  was  a  huge  cemetery,  which 
we  found  had  been  used  during  the  War  of 
1870  and  was  again  being  used,  for  the 
interment  of  prisoners  who  died  while  in  the 
prison  camp,  as  many  of  them,  poor  fellows, 
did.  There  was  a  British  as  well  as  a  French 
section  and  occasionally  our  fatigue  work 
took  us  down  there  to  cut  the  weeds  and 
clean  the  place  up.  Yes,  it  was  fairly  well 
kept.  You  see,  there  was  an  arrangement 
that  if  any  one  wanted  to  visit  a  friend's 
grave,  he  could  put  in  a  written  request  to 
the  camp  commandant  and  permission  was 
usually  given  a  week  or  so  later.  This  visit 
was  always  on  a  Sunday  afternoon  when  we 
were  not  on  regular  duty.  Then  one  could 
go  down  for  a  little  while,  under  guard,  of 
course,  and  do  any  little  work  he  pleased 
to  make  his  friend's  grave  look  better.  In 
that  way  things  were  looked  after  fairly 
well.  It  may  be  a  comfort  to  any  parents 

(77) 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

whose  sons  have  died  while  in  one  of  these 
camps,  to  know  that  their  graves  are  care- 
fully marked,  probably  by  a  stone  cut  by 
one  of  their  comrades,  and  will  apparently 
be  well  preserved.  I  went  down  to  the 
English  cemetery  once  or  twice  on  Sundays, 
but  it  was  so  depressing,  thinking  about 
the  sadness  of  it  all,  that  I  didn't  want  to 
go  again. 


[78] 


CHAPTER  IV 


INTO  "THE  BLACK  HOLE"  OF  GERMANY 


Jack  Evans  resumes: 

WE  found  Dulman  Camp  to  be  merely  an 
enclosure  about  three  quarters  of  a  mile 
square,  in  which  about  nine  thousand 
prisoners,  made  up  of  a  representation  of 
practically  all  the  Allies,  were  given  ques- 
tionable shelter  in  canvas-roofed  huts. 
Naturally  we  looked  around  at  first  to  see 
if  there  were  any  prospects  of  escape.  But 
when  we  saw  three  rows  of  wire,  found  out 
that  one  of  these  was  electrically  charged 
by  a  high-tension  current  furnished  by  a 
power  house  right  in  the  place,  we  began  to 
get  our  eyes  opened.  In  addition  to  the 
wire,  there  were  sentries  both  inside  and 
out,  and  not  satisfied  with  this  they  had 
placed  a  row  of  outposts,  also  guarded  by 

[79l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

sentries,  from  a  hundred  to  two  hundred 
yards  out.  No,  we  found  means  of  getting 
away  from  other  camps  and  I  suppose  if 
we'd  been  there  long  enough  would  have 
tried  there,  but  there  were  very  few  attempts. 

We  went  through  something  of  the  same 
procedure  as  Fred  has  described  at  Fried- 
richsfeld,  only  I  think  he  was  mighty  lucky. 
He  had  his  troubles  afterward,  all  right, 
but  certainly  got  off  easy  in  the  hospitals 
and  in  his  first  camp  experiences.  You 
see,  I  hadn't  the  honor  of  being  a  corporal, 
so  got  it  put  to  me  a  good  deal  harder. 

We  used  to  be  rooted  out  at  5.30  and 
sent  to  wash.  Soap?  What  are  you  giving 
us?  I  never  saw  any  soap  all  the  time  I 
was  in  Hunland  except  what  came  in  our 
Red  Cross  parcels.  By  that  time  the 
Germans  had  almost  forgotten  what  soap 
was.  It  was  a  real  delicacy  for  them. 
Then  we  went  to  work.  At  9.30  we  were 
given  coffee — No,  I  don't  think  it  was  per- 
colated— and  at  noon  a  bowl  of  thin  turnip 
soup.  We  worked  on  this  from  one  till 
5.30  and  then  came  in  with  glorious  appe- 

[80] 


"  THE  BLACK  HOLE  " 

tites  for ' '  dinner , ' '  consisting  of ' '  sandstorm ' ' 
and  a  little  bread.  Besides  being  black, 
doughy,  and  sour,  the  bread  possessed  char- 
acteristics such  as  are  attributed  to  ancient 
cheese.  You  had  to  hold  on  to  your  chunk 
— tether  it,  so  to  speak — or  there  was  dan- 
ger of  it  getting  away  from  you.  We  were 
expected  to  save  this  bread  till  morning, 
just  as  Fred  has  told  you  they  were  sup- 
posed to  do  in  Friedrichsfeld,  but  under 
these  conditions,  well,  would  you  expect 
us  to? 

One  time  they  did  give  us  what  seemed 
to  be  an  unusual  treat  when  we  found  bits 
of  meat  floating  round  in  the  noon-day 
soup.  It  tasted  rather  queer,  so  we  asked 
one  of  the  cooks  what  it  was.  When  he 
said  "Dog/'  and  saw  that  we  didn't  believe 
him,  he  lifted  the  cover  off  the  pot  and 
showed  us.  Better  quit  about  this,  hadn't  I  ? 

I  guess  the  Germans  themselves  knew 
more  about  this  sort  of  thing  than  we  did, 
however.  One  of  the  French  prisoners  who 
had  been  out  working  on  a  small  farm 
told  of  having  a  meal  with  the  family  and 

6  \Sl   1 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

of  being  surprised  when  served  with  meat. 
When  he  asked  where  it  came  from  they 
told  him  it  was  their  Fido,  or  whatever 
name  the  animal  bore.  When  people  ask 
us  sometimes  whether  we  weren't  often 
chased  by  dogs  during  our  attempts  at 
escape  later  and  we  tell  them  No,  they  never 
seem  to  guess  the  reason.  There's  a  good 
one,  nevertheless,  and  it  shows  just  how 
scarce  meat  of  any  kind  is  in  Germany. 

To  show  you  to  what  depths  human 
beings  can  be  brought  by  hunger  it  is  per- 
haps only  necessary  to  note  that  once  just 
about  this  time,  when  we  hadn't  any  par- 
cels for  a  good  while,  we  made  a  raid  on  the 
garbage  cans  around  the  cook  house.  The 
contents  were  usually  very  carefully  pre- 
served and  shipped  out  of  the  cainp,  I  pre- 
sume for  food  for  cattle  or  pigs.  Anyway, 
we  were  delighted  that  day  to  get  a  small 
supply  each  of  potato  peelings  and  turnip 
tops.  These  were  usually  boiled  up  but, 
somehow  or  other,  had  been  thrown  out 
that  time.  It  didn't  do  us  any  good,  how- 
ever, for  when  it  came  to  soup  time  next 

[82] 


"THE  BLACK  HOLE" 

day  there  was  no  soup  forthcoming,  and 
the  excuse  was  that  there  was  none  to  give 
us.  Another  time  when  we  were  about 
desperate  a  bunch  of  us  made  a  raid  on 
the  cellar  of  the  cook  house.  We  were  for- 
tunate enough  to  get  a  few  potatoes  but 
again  suffered  as  a  result,  for  no  dinner  was 
forthcoming  next  day. 

Shortly  after  we  were  sent  to  Dulman 
my  injured  foot  began  to  trouble  me  a  good 
deal  and  I  got  a  chance  to  take  on  a  job 
as  barber.  There  were  two  of  us  to  attend 
to  four  hundred  British  prisoners,  who  were 
supposed  to  be  shaved  and  trimmed  up 
once  a  week.  We  had  four  razors  and  a 
very  poor  strop  between  us,  but  no  hone, 
and  no  chair.  We  did  improvise  a  chair, 
though,  by  putting  an  inverted  stool  at  an 
angle  on  a  table,  while  the  "customers" 
lay  back  comfortably  (?)  along  the  legs. 
Say,  I  think  I  was  cursed  more  in  that 
month  or  so  than  I  would  get  in  a  lifetime 
in  hell.  Of  course  it  was  pretty  hard  on 
the  poor  chaps  and  I  couldn't  blame  them. 
Then  again  they  couldn't  blame  me,  for  I 

[83] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

certainly  did  the  best  I  could  with  what 
I  had  at  hand.  No,  there  were  no  tips 
extended. 

On  one  occasion  every  one  was  started 
cleaning  up  everything  around  the  camp, 
and  some  way  the  word  got  round  that  an 
official  was  coming  to  visit  us.  It  turned 
out  to  be  United  States  Ambassador  Gerard. 
I  wonder  if  he  remembers  that  day  in  Dul- 
man  Camp  when  a  long,  lean,  rough-looking 
geeser,  with  his  cheek  bones  standing  out, 
stepped  out,  when  he  asked  if  we  had  any 
complaint,  and  asked  if  he  couldn't  arrange 
to  get  us  a  little  more  food?  That  was  me. 
Mr.  Gerard  apparently  sympathized  with 
us  and  was  very  decent,  promising  to  take 
the  matter  up  with  the  camp  commandant. 
He  said  also  that  our  parcels  would  soon 
be  coming,  which  would  help  us.  I  guess 
he  had  the  interview  with  the  commandant 
all  right,  but  it  did  no  good.  We  got  no 
more  food. 

That  was  the  way  it  worked  often.  When 
any  official  from  any  other  country  was 
expected,  they  would  make  us  clean  up,  and 

[84] 


'THE  BLACK  HOLE" 

the  food  would  improve — for  a  few  days. 
After  the  visit  things  went  back  again  to 
former  conditions. 

However,  we  were  to  find  out  shortly 
that  Dulman  Camp,  bad  as  we  thought  it, 
wasn't  by  any  means  the  worst  place  in 
Germany. 

After  two  months  here,  about  fifty  of  us 
were  given  a  medical  inspection  and  inocu- 
lation and  one  morning  were  marched  out 
and  loaded  on  a  railway  truck  for  a  trip  of 
about  thirty  miles.  We  were  told  we  were 
being  sent  out  to  work  on  a  farm  and  natu- 
rally were  quite  elated,  because  we  thought 
we  would  surely  be  able  to  get  hold  of  more 
food  some  way.  It  was  a  farm,  all  right — 
"Sunnybrook  Farm,"  as  the  fellows  called 
it — but  turned  out  to  be  the  Auguste  Victo- 
ria gruber,  one  of  the  largest  coal  mines  and 
coke  manufactories  in  Germany.  It  had 
another  distinction,  as  we  soon  found  when 
we  got  there,  in  being  known  among  prison- 
ers as  "The  Black  Hole"  of  Germany. 
This  arose,  perhaps,  from  the  fact  that  what 
were  considered  the  least  tractable  prison- 

[85] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

ers  were  sent  there.  Whether  I  deserved  the 
distinction  or  how  I  earned  it  has  always 
been  a  matter  of  conjecture. 

The  mine  head  and  coke  ovens,  together 
with  the  huts  of  the  prison  camp,  were  en- 
closed in  a  compound  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  square.  The  accompanying  sketch 
will  give  a  better  idea  of  its  arrangement 
and  of  the  possibility  of  some  rather  inter- 
esting subsequent  events  than  is  possible 
otherwise. 

We  found  on  arrival,  and  after  getting 
in  touch  with  other  prisoners,  that  there 
were  about  750  fellow-prisoners — French, 
Russians,  and  Belgians,  as  well  as  a  good 
representation  of  British,  and  that  these, 
with  a  considerable  number  of  German 
civilians,  operated  the  mine  and  coke  ovens. 
Ordinarily  a  civilian  force  of  three  thousand 
or  more  was  employed. 

When  the  British  prisoners  told  us  what 
we  were  up  against  we  said  we  would  refuse 
to  work.  They  laughed  at  us  rather  sadly 
and  said  that  we  could  refuse  all  we  liked, 
that  it  would  do  no  good,  that  others  had 

[86] 


ENGLISH    BARRACK 


TUNNELLED    UNDER 
BARRACK  ROOM  FLOOR 
UNDER   SENTRIES 


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Plan  of  Auguste-Victoria  camp  and  mine  buildings  to  illustrate  the  several  escapes 

of  Evans  and  his  pals. 


"THE  BLACK  HOLE" 

tried  the  same  thing  with  rather  unpleasant 
results.  They  told  us  stories  of  prisoners 
who  had  been  stood  up  against  the  coke 
ovens  till  their  faces  were  scorched  and  one 
or  two  showed  us  the  resulting  scars.  One 
Scotchman  from  the  Fusiliers,  Menie,  I 
think  his  name  was,  showed  us  a  bayonet 
wound  in  his  face,  not  yet  quite  healed, 
which  had  come  as  a  result  of  his  refusal. 
With  this  we  appreciated  the  situation. 

Our  party  got  into  the  camp  on  Saturday. 
That  night  I  was  issued  with  mining  clothes 
and  detailed  to  go  to  work  on  Monday. 
Some  of  the  fellows  had  to  start  in  on 
Sunday  night. 

Here  is  a  sort  of  resum6  of  what  happened : 
On  Monday  morning  about  4  A.M.,  I  was 
kicked  awake  and  was  then  marched  off 
to  the  mine-head  where  I  changed  my 
clothes,  putting  on  a  special  suit  marked 
with  distinguishing  stripes  on  coat,  pants, 
and  cap.  Then  I  was  given  a  slip  of  paper 
bearing  a  number,  in  this  case  3575,  and 
also  bearing  the  number  of  the  revere  or 
gallery  I  was  assigned  to.  Another  chap, 

[87] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

Raesides,  and  myself  were  put  under  the 
tender  care  of  two  six-foot  Prussian  civil- 
ians, one  of  whom,  by  the  way,  had  been 
at  the  front,  and  were  escorted  to  the  cage 
and  dropped  down  half  a  mile  or  so  to 
the  operating  level.  The  mine  machinery 
seemed  modern,  everything  was  nicely  elec- 
trically-lighted and  at  first  things  didn't 
look  so  bad. 

We  had  been  told  by  the  other  fellows 
that  the  ordinary  practice  of  these  Prussian 
civilians  and  the  Steigers,  or  foremen,  was  to 
try  to  scare  the  daylights  out  of  the  prison- 
ers at  first,  so  that  they  would  have  them 
cowed,  and  were  advised  not  to  let  them 
bulldoze  us.  So  when  they  put  us  at  shov- 
ing stone  wagons  where  blasting  was  going 
on,  and  started  to  yell  at  us  and  to  threaten 
us  as  though  we  were  slaves,  we  saw  how 
things  were  moving.  At  "But tin"  time, 
about  10  A.M.,  when  they  sat  down  to  eat, 
we  naturally  rested  and  then  they  ques- 
tioned us  as  to  what  sort  of  work  we  had 
done  previously.  Thinking  we  would  see 
whether  we  could  jolly  them,  Rae  said  he 

[88] 


HULS 


*** 


QBERHAVSEN, 


JOCHUM 


DU/SBERG" 


_ 


CREFELD 


Diagram  showing  route  taken  by  Evans  from  prison  camp 
to  Holland. 


'THE  BLACK  HOLE'1 

had  been  a  pugilist,  and  when  my  turn 
came  I  told  them,  as  best  I  could,  that  I 
was  a  cowboy.  Of  course  we  knew  practi- 
cally no  German  then,  and  while  one  of 
them  spoke  a  little  English  he  didn't  "get" 
that  word.  They  seemed  to  understand, 
however,  when  Rae  sketched  it  on  the  mine 
wall.  And  after  that,  for  a  little  while, 
they  seemed  a  little  less  overbearing. 

Those  were  ugly  brutes  though,  and 
we  were  continually  getting  into  trouble. 
Once,  after  they  had  threatened  him  repeat- 
edly, Rae  hit  one  of  them  on  the  chin  with 
a  shovel.  This  quieted  them  down  for 
a  while,  but  apparently  they  complained 
about  us  for  in  a  little  while  we  were  split 
up,  one  working  with  each  of  the  Prussians. 
We  made  a  compact  that  we  would  stand 
together  if  anything  happened,  and  several 
times  when  either  of  them  got  obstreperous, 
called  each  other  for  help  and  thus  were 
able  to  hold  them  off  pretty  well. 

After  about  six  weeks  of  this,  though, 
they  put  in  a  complaint  that  we  would 
not  work.  What  happened?  We  were 

[89] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

taken  outside  in  the  weather,  and,  minus 
any  topcoat  and  with  the  thin  coats  we 
had  unfastened,  were  made  to  stand  at  still- 
gestanden  (Attention)  for  six  hours.  It 
was  cold  then,  Jiminy !  it  was  cold,  but  there 
was  no  help  for  it.  It's  a  wonder  we  didn't 
freeze  to  death. 

Another  time,  when  Bill  Flannagan,  my 
closest  chum  in  the  army,  was  killed  by 
falling  stone  in  the  mine,  we  again  refused  to 
work.  We  were  made  to  stand  at  attention 
again  to  about  the  limit  of  our  physical 
ability,  and  every  once  in  a  while  the  sentry 
would  come  along  and  give  us  a  dirty  kick. 

I  got  lots  of  that  sort  of  thing  for  it  used 
to  hit  me  that  every  shovelful  of  coal  was 
probably  being  used  to  help  make  muni- 
tions to  use  against  our  fellows  back  there 
in  the  trenches.  When  those  feelings  would 
come  I  would  refuse  to  work.  Invariably 
would  come  this  stillgestanden  business,  and 
I  don't  know  anything  that  will  break  a 
fellow  quicker.  Once  they  kept  me  stand- 
ing without  food  or  water  for  thirty-six 
hours,  and  once  in  that  time  I  got  to  my 

[90] 


Raesides  and  Evans. 

Taken  at  Auguste-Victoria  camp  in  borrowed  new  uniforms  and  faked  up  by 
German  staff  photographers. 


'THE  BLACK  HOLE" 

limit  and  fainted.  That  didn't  do  any  good, 
however,  for  they  tossed  a  bucket  of  water 
over  me  and  when  I  came  to,  kicked  me  up 
into  the  line  again.  What  could  we  do 
under  circumstances  like  these?  It  broke 
our  hearts  to  do  it  but  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  go  back  again  to  the  shovelling. 

These  civilian  miners  worked  by  the  piece 
and  of  course  it  was  in  their  interests  to  get 
all  they  could  out  of  us.  We  were  supposed 
to  receive  five  marks  (about  a  dollar)  a 
week  for  our  labor.  Usually,  however,  they 
found  a  way  to  make  Strafes  or  fines  in  this 
so  that  we  were  fortunate  if  we  drew  one 
mark  of  it. 

I  was  forced  at  this  sort  of  thing,  and  all 
the  time  was  suffering  from  hunger  and 
other  privations,  for  about  eight  months. 
Then,  just  before  Christmas  one  day,  some- 
thing seemed  to  bother  me  and  instead  of 
going  into  the  old  workings  I  went  off  to 
another  spot  and  lay  down.  It  wasn't  long 
before  three  Steigers  caught  me  asleep. 
They  lit  into  me  with  sticks  and  hammered 
me  up  pretty  badly.  I  stood  it  as  long  as  I 

[91] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

could,  but  suddenly  my  dander  flared  up 
and  I  grabbed  up  a  miner's  lamp  standing 
near,  swung  it  around,  and  hit  one  of  them 
a  pretty  bad  crack  on  the  chest.  This 
settled  them  for  the  moment,  but  I  was 
marched  off  to  an  underofficer  of  the  camp 
where  a  charge  was  laid.  I  expected,  of 
course,  to  be  punished,  and  was  not  sur- 
prised, for  I  was  given  three  days  in  "black 
cells.*'  When  I  got  out  I  refused  to  work 
and  expected  further  treatment,  but  the 
case  took  a  funny  turn.  It  appeared  that  I 
was  charged  with  a  crime,  but  since  this  was 
against  civilians  it  was  ruled  that  I  should 
be  tried  in  a  civilian  court.  So  a  few  days 
later  I  was  marched  off  under  guard,  down 
to  Recklinghausen  for  a  preliminary  trial. 
From  here  I  was  sent  on  to  a  higher  court, 
apparently  a  county  court,  at  Dortmund. 
You  can  understand  that  I  was  prepared  for 
almost  anything.  I  was  rather  surprised, 
however,  to  be  given  an  interpreter  and  a 
lawyer.  I  had  planned  to  put  on  as  bold  a 
front  as  possible,  had  borrowed  a  good- 
looking  uniform  from  one  of  the  other  fel- 

[92] 


'THE  BLACK  HOLE" 

lows,  and  had  tried  to  polish  up  as  much  as  I 
could.  When  my  name  was  called,  I  walked 
out  in  front  of  the  judge  and  jury  and  ap- 
pealed as  straightforwardly  as  I  knew  how, 
in  the  name  of  a  British  soldier,  for  a  square 
deal.  My  remarks  were  duly  interpreted 
and  the  judge  assured  me  that  I  would  be 
justly  treated.  And  I  want  to  say  right 
here  that  I  was.  It  was  some  sensation, 
though,  to  be  the  only  Englishman — indeed, 
the  only  countryman  other  than  Germans — 
in  a  German  court,  and  a  prisoner  of  war 
besides. 

As  the  case  proceeded,  one  of  the  Steigers 
charged  that  I  had  begun  the  fracas  by 
striking  him  with  the  lamp  on  the  jaw. 
When  my  turn  came,  I  gave  my  evidence 
straightforwardly  and  submitted,  as  strongly 
as  I  knew  how,  that  if  the  blow  had  been 
delivered  on  the  jaw,  as  the  Steiger  charged, 
there  would  have  been  a  scar  from  the 
wound.  I  was  closely  cross-examined  but 
stuck  to  my  story  and  in  the  end  was  let  off 
scot-free  while  one  of  the  Steigers  was  fined 
a  hundred  marks  and  costs. 

[93  1 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

After  the  trial  the  Steigers  wanted  the 
guard  who  had  me  in  charge  to  go  into  an 
inn  and  have  a  drink  with  them.  I  told 
him  to  go  along,  that  I  would  wait  for  him, 
but  apparently  he  did  not  care  to  trust  me, 
for  he  motioned  me  to  come  along  also. 
Now  those  fellows  certainly  didn't  intend 
me  to  drink  with  them  and  at  their  expense, 
particularly  after  one  of  them  had  been 
fined,  but  when  they  sat  down  at  a  table 
with  one  vacant  chair  I  had  nerve  enough 
to  sit  down  too.  And  when  the  girl  took 
their  order  for  Heissen  Schnapps  all  round, 
I  said  Heissen  Schnapps  too.  At  first  one 
or  two  of  them  wanted  to  interfere,  but  one 
of  the  others  said:  "Oh  give  the  Schweine- 
hund  a  drink.  He  should  get  it.  He  has 
nerve  enough."  Altogether  I  got  four 
drinks  out  of  those  fellows,  and  then  they 
had  a  few  more  rounds  which  apparently 
they  did  not  care  to  pay  for  for  me. 

A  little  time  afterward  one  of  the  three 
Steigers  appealed  the  case  and  it  was  carried 
to  a  higher  court,  this  time  again  at  Reck- 
linghausen,  where  the  former  preliminary 

[94] 


'THE  BLACK  HOLE" 

trial  had  been  held.  Here  the  same  pro- 
cedure was  followed,  and  in  the  end  the 
appellant  was  fined  twenty  marks  and  costs 
and  again  I  was  let  off. 

This  incident  seemed  to  have  a  beneficial 
effect  at  the  mines.  Perhaps  it  led  to  some 
new  regulations  among  the  Steigers.  We 
never  heard.  At  any  rate  conditions  were 
improved  afterward  to  some  extent  at  least, 
so  far  as  the  treatment  by  the  Steigers  was 
concerned. 

These  Steigers,  by  the  way,  were  an  illus- 
tration of  the  result  of  German  military 
methods.  Most  of  them  had  been  sergeant- 
majors  in  the  army,  in  which  positions  they 
had  developed  their  brutality  and  bullying 
tactics.  And  the  way  they  used  the  Ger- 
man civilians  was  a  shame.  No  Canadian 
would  stand  for  it  for  a  moment.  It  didn't 
work  out  on  our  fellows,  though.  I  think 
I  am  fair  in  saying,  and  I'm  not  boasting, 
either,  that  the  British  prisoners  had  the 
upper  hand  of  the  civilian  laborers  almost 
without  exception.  And  this  illustrates 
rather  succinctly  the  difference  between 

[95] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

the  two  peoples.  These  poor  German  chaps 
had  been  brow-beaten  in  the  army  and 
during  whatever  work  they  were  engaged 
in  till  they  took  almost  anything  without 
kicking.  Our  fellows  had  been  looking  out 
for  themselves  and  wouldn't  stand  for  any 
undue  interference. 

Some  time  after  the  trial  I  was  put  to 
work  with  a  very  decent  Steiger,  Fritz,  an 
older  man  than  most  of  them,  who  used 
me  very  fairly.  He  was  really  too  old  to 
work  at  that  sort  of  thing,  but  had  to  do  it. 
He  lost  no  opportunity  of  expressing  his 
hatred  for  England,  and  one  day  when  I 
asked  why  he  was  so  bitter,  he  told  me  that 
he  had  lost  five  sons,  killed  in  the  war.  He 
was  filled  up  with  the  Junkers'  idea  that 
England  had  started  the  scrap  and  so  it 
wasn't  very  much  wonder  he  felt  hardly 
toward  us. 

We  got  the  impression  from  these  civil- 
ians that  they  had  lost  interest  in  the  war. 
At  that  time  they  were  badly  off  for  food 
and  were  more  interested  in  the  prospects 
for  food  than  for  any  likelihood  of  victory. 

[96] 


'THE  BLACK  HOLE" 

As  old  Fritz  said  to  me  one  day:  "Kein 
Brot,  kein  Fleisch,  keine  Sohne.  Deutsch- 
land  ist  verriickt."  (No  bread,  no  meat,  no 
sons.  Germany  is  crazy.) 

These  fellows  used  to  fill  us  up  with 
stories  of  what  the  Zepps.  were  doing  in 
England  and  especially  in  London.  While 
we  didn't  believe,  of  course,  all  they  told 
us,  it  was  mighty  dispiriting  not  to  know 
whether  there  was  anything  in  it  or  not.  At 
one  time  they  told  us  that  the  Zepps.  were 
bombarding  the  shores  of  America,  and  since 
the  United  States  hadn't  yet  entered  the 
war,  we  thought  it  must  be  in  Canada  and 
thought  about  the  poor  people  in  Halifax. 
Then  that  paper  you've  likely  heard  of,  The 
Continental  Times,  printed  in  English,  osten- 
sibly for  the  benefit  of  the  prisoners,  used 
to  be  sold  around  the  camps.  This  was  full 
of  just  such  stuff,  purporting,  too,  to  come 
from  British  sources.  Sometimes  it  was 
mighty  hard  to  keep  our  spirits  up.  But  we 
just  had  to.  We  knew  the  German  news- 
papers had  been  full  of  lies  previously  and  we 
went  on  the  faith  that  this  was  still  the  case. 

t97l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

Just  here,  too,  I  met  a  civilian  laborer 
who  had  been  living  in  the  United  States  for 
five  years,  but  had  come  home  just  before 
the  war  and  had  been  drafted  and  forced 
to  work.  He  was  more  than  fed  up  on  the 
whole  business,  told  us  that  the  stuff  in  The 
Continental  Times  was  the  same  as  that  in 
the  German  papers,  and  that  we  could  rely 
on  about  fifty  per  cent,  of  it  being  bunkum. 
Was  he  disgusted  with  what  had  happened 
to  him?  Say — you  should  have  heard  him 
curse  Germany  when  no  Germans  were 
around. 


98] 


CHAPTER  V 

FAMINE  CONDITIONS  ON  GERMAN  FARMS 

Corporal  McMullen  resumes: 

AFTER  I  had  been  in  Friedrichsf  eld  Camp 
about  two  months  and  was  getting  pretty 
well  tired  of  it,  there  came  a  change  which, 
while  it  didn't  immediately  lead  to  much 
improvement,  was  a  change,  and  that 
counted  for  a  good  deal  under  the  conditions 
we  were  experiencing  at  that  time. 

One  morning  we  were  wakened  at  about 
4*30,  were  put  through  an  inspection  to  see 
whether  we  had  secreted  maps,  compasses, 
or  anything  to  aid  in  escaping,  and  about 
three  hundred  of  us  were  lined  up  on  the 
parade  ground,  told  we  were  being  taken 
out  for  farm  work,  and  were  given  a  lecture 
on  how  we  should  conduct  ourselves,  by  a 
German  captain.  While  the  captain  was 

[99] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

talking,  an  old  general  came  in.  He  must 
have  been  partially  deaf  for  he  apparently 
couldn't  hear  what  was  being  told  us,  and  the 
way  he  went  for  that  captain  was  a  wonder. 

Then,  without  any  excuse  for  any  kind  of 
a  breakfast,  we  were  marched  down  a  mile 
and  a  quarter  to  a  junction  point  and  loaded 
on  a  train.  The  boys  had  carried  every- 
thing they  owned  along  with  them,  and, 
since  our  parcels  had  started  coming  in 
fairly  regularly  then,  some  of  them  were 
pretty  well  loaded.  The  sentries  hurried 
us  down  that  road  mighty  fast,  however, 
and  by  the  time  we  got  to  the  train  there 
was  a  good  deal  less  on  the  boys'  backs. 
When  we  got  to  the  train  we  were  ordered, 
fifteen  or  twenty  at  a  time,  into  a  compart- 
ment. When  we  objected,  because  there 
wasn't  room,  they  told  us  to  stand  up,  say- 
ing that  we  wouldn't  be  in  long,  anyway. 
By  this  time,  you  see,  we  had  picked  up 
enough  German  to  get  along  on.  Well,  we 
were  on  that  train  just  nine  hours,  and  in 
spite  of  protests  were  given  neither  water 
nor  food  during  that  time. 

[ioo] 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS       ;.;;;' 

And  then,  when  they  did  land  us  we  got 
another  surprise.  Instead  of  the  farm  we 
had  expected  we  were  marched  into  Cassel 
Camp.  Now  that  name  wouldn't  mean 
much  to  you.  To  us  it  was  different.  We 
had  heard  how  four  thousand  Russians  had 
died  in  that  camp  just  six  months  before, 
and  when  we  learned  from  a  few  British 
and  Canadians  who  were  there,  some  of 
them  since  early  in  1914,  of  the  bad  reputa- 
tion the  place  had,  we  were  not  particularly 
comforted. 

That  night  we  were  given  two  lousy 
blankets  apiece  and  were  allotted  to  small, 
vile  huts  with  leaky  canvas  roofs.  Woof! 
How  the  animalculae  did  worry  us  in  that 
camp!  It  had  been  bad  enough  in  the 
trenches,  but  there  we  could  wash  and  get 
a  change  of  clothing  occasionally.  Here 
there  was  absolutely  no  opportunity  to  keep 
oneself  clean. 

No  supper?  Yes,  we  did  have  a  meal 
that  night — the  first  that  day.  And  very 
nutritious  it  was,  consisting  of — stewed 
grass.  Now  grass  might  be  all  right  as  a 

[101] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

side-dish,  as  greens,  when  you  had  some 
good  Irish  potatoes  and  beef  to  go  with  it, 
but  stewed  grass  alone  is — well,  nobody 
could  eat  it  except  the  Russians,  a  few  of 
whom  were  in  the  camp,  and  who  seemed 
to  have  a  capacity  for  anything. 

It  was  beastly  cold  that  night  and  along 
about  midnight  one  of  the  fellows  got  up, 
tore  up  a  board  off  the  wooden  walk,  and 
started  a  fire.  He  got  three  days  in  "  black 
cells  "  for  it. 

In  the  morning  we  were  treated  to  coffee 
only.  During  the  day  some  of  us  were  put 
on  fatigue,  which  meant  scrubbing  and 
cleaning  up.  We  worked  most  of  the  day 
with  our  stomachs  fairly  twisted  up  with 
hunger  and  came  back  at  night  to  a  dinner 
of  horsechestnut  soup.  The  chestnuts  had 
been  boiled  and  apparently  kept  for  use 
another  day.  We  drank  the  water  because 
it  was  hot.  I  don't  think  the  stuff  had  any 
nourishment. 

That  night,  to  keep  our  spirits  up  we 
just  had  to  sing.  It  went  on  for  a  few 
minutes  and  then  ten  guards  with  fixed 

[  102] 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS 

bayonets  rushed  into  the  huts  and  laid 
around  them  with  their  rifle  butts. 

Thank  heaven  that  wasn't  to  last  long. 
Soon  parties  were  made  up  to  be  sent  out 
to  work,  some  in  the  salt  mines,  some  in 
the  stone  quarries.  We  learned  later  that 
the  fellows  sent  to  the  salt  mines  for  some 
reason  were  all  taken  very  sick  and  had  to 
be  sent  to  the  hospital. 

It  fell  to  my  lot,  however,  with  six  others 
to  be  sent  to  a  big  farm  adjacent  to  the 
village  of  Waubern,  and  here  we  learned 
more  than  we  had  been  able  to  previously 
of  how  terribly  the  war  and  the  British 
blockade  was  affecting  the  German  civilians. 
Here,  too,  we  learned  something  of  the  bully- 
ing spirit  of  the  German  underofficer. 

The  seven,  three  of  us  Canadians,  were 
under  the  charge  of  a  sentry  who  had  for- 
merly been  in  the  Prussian  Guard.  I  sup- 
pose his  idea  was  to  treat  us  as  he  had  been 
treated  by  those  over  him.  At  any  rate 
he  was  a  bad  actor  and  certainly  had  it  in 
for  us. 

We  were  given  sleeping  quarters  in  the 

[103] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

barn  but  were  wakened  the  first  morning 
and  given  breakfast,  consisting  of  the  ever- 
present  coffee — as  it  was  called  though  it 
bore  mighty  little  resemblance  to  any  we 
had  ever  seen  before — and  a  small  slice  of 
sour,  black  bread  full  of  stones  and  which 
burnt  as  though  one  were  eating  vitriol. 
Then  we  were  put  at  our  first  job  of  loading 
manure. 

The  farm  was  a  good  big  one,  about  a 
thousand  acres  altogether,  so  that  there  was 
a  good  deal  of  work  to  do.  For  two  months, 
however,  we  were  kept  at  that  manure  job, 
from  four  in  the  morning  till  dark,  about 
8  P.M.  Think  about  that  for  hours,  you 
labor  men.  When  we  got  back  to  the  barn 
we  were  given  a  bowl  of  runkle  soup,  really 
a  concoction  of  turnips  or  mangels,  princi- 
pally warm  water.  Later  when  the  roots  be- 
came scarce  the  soup  was  made  from  the  tops 
only.  Work  and  sleep  and  be  cursed  at — 
that  was  our  lot  pretty  regularly,  just  then. 

A  few  instances  of  this  treatment,  which 
came  almost  daily,  will  explain  something 
of  the  situation. 


104 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS 

We  had  one  chap  in  the  bunch,  Jack 
Hawley,  a  Sussex  man  who  was  not  overly 
strong  and  on  whom  the  prison  life  had 
been  rather  hard.  One  day  he  was  sick,  and 
when  his  complaint  was  disregarded  and  he 
refused  to  work  in  consequence,  but  walked 
away  from  the  manure  heap,  the  sentry 
hit  him  over  the  head  with  the  butt  of  his 
rifle  so  hard  that  he  laid  him  out.  Often 
when  we  didn't  do  things  just  to  suit  him, 
this  chap  would  club  us  similarly.  We 
often  thought  we  would  teach  him  a  lesson 
when  opportunity  offered,  but  decided  that 
it  wouldn't  be  any  use,  since  we  would  prob- 
ably be  well  punished  for  it  and  given  as 
bad  or  worse  treatment  afterward. 

One  day  the  farmer  himself  came  down 
and  asked  if  any  one  of  us  could  drive. 
One  of  our  own  chaps,  "  Ginger  "  Pope,  who 
knew  a  little  about  horses,  volunteered 
and  was  put  in  charge  of  the  team  of  oxen. 
He  was  ordered,  when  the  poor,  starved 
animals  tried  helplessly  to  draw  the  heavily 
loaded  wagon,  to  hammer  them  with  a  stick. 
When  he  refused,  the  sentry  rushed  at  him 

[105] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

raging,  with  his  bayonet  fixed.  "  Ginger " 
waited  till  he  was  about  ten  feet  away, 
then  sidestepped  neatly,  and  the  sentry 
fell  on  his  stomach  in  the  mist  (manure). 
Of  course  he  raised  a  terrible  row  and  was 
about  to  bayonet  the  whole  bunch  when 
the  farmer  himself  came  along  and  quieted 
him  down. 

After  that  things  went  along  a  bit  easier. 
At  this  time,  though,  our  parcels  were  not 
reaching  us.  Apparently  they  were  not 
being  sent  on  from  Friedrichsfeld  Camp. 
And  on  the  limited  ration  things  looked 
pretty  hopeless.  One  night  we  had  nothing 
for  supper  but  a  little  warm  water  flavored 
with  barley  and  I  said  to  the  fellows:  "If 
this  is  all  we're  going  to  get  we  might  as 
well  go  off  and  die.  I  won't  be  able  to 
stand  it  much  longer."  Next  morning  the 
sentry  woke  us  up  with  his  yell  of  "Auf- 
stehen!"  at  a  quarter  to  four.  He,  with 
another  guard,  slept  downstairs  and  we 
above.  We  said:  "Jah!  Jah!"  but  nobody 
moved.  After  a  little  while  the  sentry 
came  up,  pulled  what  little  coverings  we 

f  io6l 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS 

had  off  us,  and  hit  Pope  over  the  head, 
laying  him  out  for  the  day,  and  used  us  all 
pretty  roughly.  This  led  to  one  thing  and 
another  till  later  on  one  of  the  chaps,  Salter, 
who  had  been  threatened,  hit  the  sentry  a 
terrific  crack  over  the  jaw  with  a  pitchfork. 
We  were  all  taken  back  to  the  barrack  and 
deprived  of  any  ration.  Next  morning, 
Salter  was  locked  in  a  small  box  affair  and 
the  rest  of  us  were  ordered  off  to  work,  but 
we  refused  to  go  without  Salter.  "Well," 
the  sentry  said,  "if  you  won't  work,  you 
won't  get  anything  to  eat."  So  we  were 
kept  all  day  again  with  absolutely  nothing. 
In  some  way  the  condition  of  affairs  got  to 
the  ears  of  the  officials  in  the  neighboring 
camp  and  a  sergeant-major  came  out  and 
went  into  it.  He  seemed  to  be  a  very  decent 
sort  and  accepted  our  versions  of  the  affair 
against  the  word  of  the  sentry  who  was 
severely  raked  over  the  coals.  When  this 
officer  seemed  somewhat  sympathetic  to- 
ward us,  we  told  him  of  the  food  we  were, 
or  rather  were  not,  getting.  He  said  he  was 
sorry  but  that  to  remedy  the  matter  was 

[107] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

beyond  him,  since  everyone  else  was  in  the 
same  fix. 

About  then,  however,  when  we  all  were 
about  dead  from  starvation,  our  parcels 
began  to  come  and  that  saved  the  situation 
for  us.  These  chirped  up  our  spirits  a  bit 
and  three  of  the  chaps,  Pope,  Pike,  and 
Samuels,  arranged  to  try  for  a  getaway. 
One  of  them  had  managed  somehow  to 
bring  out  a  map  and  a  compass  under  his 
arm  or  between  his  legs  and  they  saved  up 
stuff  from  their  parcels  for  the  trip.  One 
night  when  we  came  in  from  the  fields,  they 
said  they  didn't  want  any  supper.  The 
sentry  locked  them  in  while  he  went  over 
to  the  farm  house  with  the  rest  of  us,  but 
when  we  came  back  they  were  gone. 

If  this  escape  did  nothing  else  it  relieved 
us  of  that  brute  sentry.  Of  course  he  re- 
ported the  escapes  to  the  camp.  He  was 
called  in  and  another  man  sent  in  his 
place,  and  we  learned  afterward  that  he  was 
court-martialled  and  given  pretty  severe 
punishment. 

Those  poor  chaps  weren't  able  to  get  far. 

[io8] 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS 

Of  course  it  was  easy  to  trace  the  prisoners 
by  reason  of  their  marked  uniforms.  They 
wandered  round  for  three  days  and  then 
were  caught  and  brought  back  to  Cassel 
Camp  where  they  were  given  twenty-one 
days  "black"  (black  cells),  with  the  ration 
limited  to  250  grammes  of  bread  a  day. 
We  happened  to  be  at  the  camp  when  Pike 
was  let  out,  but  would  scarcely  have  known 
him.  The  confinement  and  starvation  had 
changed  him  terribly  and  affected  him  so 
seriously  that  he  went  into  a  decline. 

The  new  sentry  was  a  little  easier  on  us 
and  gave  us  a  little  freedom.  Then  with 
our  parcels  coming  and  with  a  few  apples 
and  potatoes  we  managed  to  steal  occasion- 
ally we  were  getting  along  better.  How- 
ever, on  the  4th  of  November,  for  some 
reason  we  were  taken  back  to  Cassel  Camp. 

At  this  time  conditions  in  that  camp  were 
a  good  deal  worse  than  we  had  found  them 
before,  if  that  seems  possible.  We  were 
better  off  for  food  because  we  were  getting 
some  parcels,  but  the  Russians  and  some 
Belgian  civilians  who  had  been  brought  in 

[109] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

were  in  bad  shape.  The  Germans  claimed 
that  their  men  being  held  as  prisoners  in 
Russia  were  being  badly  treated  and  in  con- 
sequence, they  took  it  out  on  the  Russians 
in  their  hands.  The  Belgians  had  been 
ordered  to  work  at  munitions,  but  had 
refused  absolutely  and  so  were  brought  in 
to  this  camp.  Since  they  were  civilians, 
it  was  out  of  the  question  for  the  Red  Cross 
to  do  anything  for  them.  Their  ration  was 
two  bowls  of  soup  so-called — really  it  was 
only  heated  water  with  enough  solid  matter 
to  color  it — per  day.  They  got  no  bread 
ration  and  nothing  else.  Poor  fellows!  At 
night  they  used  to  climb  up  on  the  fence 
separating  the  compounds  and  call  over  to 
us  asking  for  help.  We  gave  them  what 
we  could,  taking  up  a  collection  regularly 
for  them  and  putting  this  in  a  bag  which  we 
hung  on  the  fence  where  one  of  them  could 
climb  over  to  get  it.  After  a  little  they  dug 
a  tunnel  through  and  underneath  the  fence 
and  came  through  that  way.  The  Rus- 
sians, although  they  were  almost  starving, 
themselves,  certainly  did  all  they  could  to 

[no] 


i.     fe 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS 

help  them,  and  used  to  come  around  and 
beg  bits  from  us  for  these  Belgians.  And 
just  here  we  got  some  new  light  on  the  Rus- 
sians. The  chaps  in  that  camp,  although 
they  were  unlettered,  were  good-natured 
fellows  with  big,  friendly  hearts.  We  could 
see  how  they  had  been  oppressed  before 
the  war  and  under  the  circumstances  it 
wasn't  much  wonder  they  hated  the  thought 
of  war.  They  had  been  forced  away  from 
their  homes  and  even  then  had  absolutely 
no  idea  of  what  it  was  all  about  or  who  was 
concerned  in  it.  After  seeing  these  chaps 
I  can  easily  understand  how  conditions  in 
Russia  are  as  they  are  just  now. 

There  were  a  number  of  French  in  the 
camp  also,  but  somehow  they  did  not  im- 
press us  so  favorably.  They  were  much 
better  fed  than  any  of  us,  getting  forty  or 
fifty  biscuits,  like  pancakes,  a  week.  They 
would  fill  these  flat  biscuits  with  water 
through  a  hole  in  the  top  and  when  they 
were  put  on  the  stove  they  would  swell 
up,  making  a  fairly  decent  meal.  They 
seemed  to  be  pretty  self -centered  though, 

[in] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

and  paid  little  attention  to  the  starving 
Belgians. 

Shortly  after  we  got  in,  typhus  got  a  hold 
on  these  Belgians,  and,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected under  these  conditions,  carried  them 
off  rapidly.  Almost  any  day,  at  certain 
times,  we  could  go  down  to  the  gate  of  the 
camp  and  see  them  carry  out  six  or  seven 
of  the  poor  beggars  who  wouldn't  suffer 
any  more.  One  day  we  counted  fourteen. 

Along  in  December  it  began  to  get  ter- 
ribly cold,  and  since  no  regular  provision 
was  made  for  heating  any  part  of  the  prison- 
ers' camp  this  intensified  our  troubles.  It 
was  possible  to  buy  coal  in  briquette  form 
for  about  $1.60  per  hundred  pounds,  but 
of  course  none  of  us  had  any  quantity  of 
money  so  this  didn't  help  us  much.  Just 
about  then,  too,  there  were  very  heavy 
falls  of  snow,  about  like  we  got  here  this 
year  in  January.  There  was  at  least  two 
feet  of  it  all  over  the  camp  and  some  places 
when  we  were  working  outside  the  camp 
we  had  to  wade  up  to  our  necks.  One  night 
during  this  cold  snap  I  was  put,  with  a  num- 

[112] 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS 

her  of  other  Canadians,  in  a  hut  containing 
some  French.  When  we  went  to  bed  the 
air  was  thick,  and  of  course  our  fellows 
wanted  the  windows  open.  Not  so  the 
French.  They  wanted  things  kept  closed 
up.  And  all  that  night  there  was  a  sort  of 
race,  our  fellows  opening  up  and  the  French- 
men closing  down  those  windows. 

With  all  this  we  were  not  sorry  when  on 
the  ninth  of  January  we  were  lined  up — 
eighty-seven  English  and  Canadians,  fifty 
French,  and  about  a  hundred  Russians,  and 
told  that  we  were  to  be  taken  back  to 
Friedrichsfeld.  The  French  started  off 
with  their  kits  all  loaded  up  as  usual,  but 
when  it  was  found  that  we  had  to  march 
about  four  miles  to  a  junction  point  instead 
of  getting  the  train,  as  expected,  at  a  sid- 
ing, there  was  some  considerable  sacrificing 
of  kit  material.  We  came  along  a  little 
after  the  French  and  were  rather  amused 
at  the  trail  of  abandoned  material  all  along 
the  way. 

We  were  packed  into  that  train  about 
nine  A.M.,  after  an  early  start  from  the 

[113] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

camp,  and  travelled  till  seven  that  night 
without  food  or  water.  That  time  we 
followed  a  different  route  than  formerly, 
which  brought  us  through  the  town  of 
Essen,  where  we  could  see  from  the  train 
the  many  stacks  and  some  of  the  buildings 
of  the  great  Krupp  works.  We  got  some 
cheer  here,  though,  for  the  train  guards 
were  good  enough  to  tell  us  that  some  of 
the  Allied  aviators  had  bombed  part  of  the 
works  the  night  before,  had  done  consider- 
able damage  and  had  killed  a  number  of 
German  munition  workers.  Naturally,  they 
were  not  feeling  particularly  elated  over  it. 
As  we  came  through  another  town,  Over- 
hausen,  we  were  singing  "The  Maple  Leaf" 
and  other  familiar  songs.  Here  there  were 
girls  and  children  on  the  platform,  with 
beer  and  wine.  At  first  they  took  ours,  by 
reason  of  the  singing,  I  guess,  for  a  regular 
troop  train,  and  we  were  rather  jubilant 
when  it  looked  as  if  we  were  going  to  be 
treated.  When  they  saw  who  we  were, 
however,  they  soon  disappeared.  The  sta- 
tion master  here  tried  to  get  the  military 

[114] 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS 

police  to  stop  our  singing.  They  tried. 
That's  all  it  amounted  to. 

We  arrived  at  Friedrichsf eld  about  seven 
o'clock  that  night  so  used  up  that  quite  a 
few  of  the  men  fell  down  when  forced  to 
march  the  mile  or  so  to  the  camp.  When 
they  were  unable  to  get  up  when  ordered, 
the  sentries  clubbed  them  till  somehow  or 
other  they  struggled  to  their  feet  and  kept 
moving.  It  was  almost  more  than  we 
could  stand  to  see  this  but  what  could  we 
do? 

The  life  at  Friedrichsfeld  was  about  the 
same  as  formerly.  In  regard  to  one  thing, 
however,  we  soon  found  a  change,  and  it 
was  significant  as  illustrating  how  short 
certain  kinds  of  materials  were  becoming 
in  the  country.  Previously  we  were  able 
to  do  about  as  we  pleased  with  the  stuff  in 
our  parcels.  Now  when  the  parcels  arrived 
all  the  canned  stuff  was  taken  out,  and, 
after  being  marked  with  a  distinguishing 
number,  was  placed  in  a  special  store  room. 
When  we  wanted  any  of  this  stuff  we  had 
to  take  our  basins  down  there  and  the  cans 

[115] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

were  opened  in  the  presence  of  a  German 
officer.  One  reason  for  this  precaution 
perhaps  was  that  the  French  people  had 
been  sending  an  occasional  compass  in  the 
cans  which  came  in  to  their  men.  After 
these  tins  were  emptied,  however,  they 
were  carefully  stored  in  a  pile.  At  regular 
intervals  the  accumulation  was  hammered 
down  flat  and  then  shipped  away  to  a 
smelting  works. 

While  my  wound  was  still  bothering  me 
a  good  deal,  I  was  in  rather  better  shape 
this  time  than  when  in  the  camp  before. 
Besides  I  had  picked  up  by  this  time  enough 
German  to  get  along  very  fairly  on  and  so 
was  able  to  talk  with  the  sentries  in  the 
camp.  In  that  way  we  got  considerable 
information — and  sometimes  other  things, 
as  will  shortly  reveal  itself. 

Remember  that  this  was  a  military  train- 
ing center  as  well  as  a  prisoners'  camp.  At 
that  time  there  were  stationed  there  several 
thousand  men  who  had  been  on  the  Eastern 
front,  being  retrained  for  service  on  the 
Western  front.  From  the  camp  we  could  see 

[116] 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS 

their  training  ground,  and  it  was  amusing 
to  see  the  officers  trying  to  get  some  idea 
of  extended-order  work  into  the  heads  of 
these  fellows  who  had  had  mass-formation 
fighting  ground  into  them  as  the  only  pro- 
cedure. And  in  this  we  found  out  some- 
thing of  the  methods  of  the  German  Army. 
It  seemed  to  be  a  system  of  oppression. 
The  wfer-officers,  for  instance,  made  it 
mighty  warm  for  the  captains,  and  they 
took  it  out  on  the  subalterns.  They  passed 
the  same  treatment  along.  When  it  came 
down  to  the  poor  privates  you  can  imagine 
how  things  were.  It  was  a  shame  the  way 
they  treated  the  men.  Why,  we  have  re- 
peatedly seen  a  corporal  knock  flat  with  his 
rifle  a  private  who  was  apparently  doing 
the  best  he  could  but  was  perhaps  a  little 
stupid.  Then  he  would  kick  him  till  he 
got  up  and  into  the  line  again.  This  was 
not  an  unusual  occurrence  but  happened 
daily.  Say,  if  anything  like  that  happened 
in  the  Canadian  troops  there'd  be  a  mutiny 
in  a  minute. 

These  soldiers  in  training  had  to  take  their 

[117] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

turns  as  sentries  in  the  prison  camp  and  in 
that  way  we  got  a  chance  to  talk  to  them  oc- 
casionally. One  chap  I  remember  particu- 
larly, because  he  seemed  more  intelligent 
than  the  usual  run,  was  a  Bavarian  me- 
chanic. Though  only  a  boy,  about  twenty- 
two,  he  had  seen  two  years  of  service  against 
the  Russians.  And  he  was  fed  up  with  the 
fighting  game.  "What's  the  use  of  us 
fighting?"  he  answered,  when  I  asked  him 
what  he  thought  about  the  general  outlook. 
"We  may  carry  on  two  or  three  years 
longer,  but  we  have  no  food  and  in  the  end 
the  world  will  be  against  the  Fatherland.  I 
might  as  well  die  now  as  go  through  any 
more  of  this."  Just  then  a  corporal  passed 
and  scowled  at  him.  After  a  minute  or  two, 
when  he  got  a  chance  to  speak  to  me  again, 
he  said:  "Look  at  that.  I'm  three  times 
cleverer  than  he  is,  but  he  can  lord  it  over 
me  because  he  has  a  little  military  pull." 
He  went  on  to  tell  me  that  he  had  served 
as  batman  to  three  different  officers  but  that 
was  nothing  but  downright  slavery.  Their 
officers'  servants  surely  had  a  terrible  life. 

[118] 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS 

Almost  any  of  the  private  soldiers  would 
speak  in  the  same  way.  Often,  even  at 
the  risk  of  being  overheard  and  severely 
punished  they  would  say  to  us:  "The  war 
is  no  good.  The  Kaiser  is  crazy."  It 
looked  as  if  they  didn't  care  whether  they 
died  or  not. 

It  must  have  made  them  think  funny 
things,  too,  when  they  saw  how  we  prisoners 
were  dressed  in  comparison  to  themselves. 
These  fellows  were  in  very  bad  shape  for 
clothing  and  their  uniforms  appeared  to  be 
made  up  from  half  a  dozen  old  ones  and 
patched  into  the  bargain.  Their  boots,  too, 
were  worn  out  and  many  of  them  had  been 
resoled  with  wood.  When  this  got  wet  and 
the  glue  softened  they  used  to  split  up  and 
cause  them  a  lot  of  trouble.  Again,  they 
had  no  socks  but  used  cotton  foot  rags  and 
as  a  result  of  this  and  the  poor  boots  their 
feet  were  in  terrible  shape. 

As  against  this  we  were  well  off.  Most 
of  us  had  recently  had  clothing  parcels 
from  the  Red  Cross,  containing  fine  heavy 
uniforms,  a  good  supply  of  thick  woolen 

[119] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

socks,  and  heavy  English  boots.  You  can 
imagine  how  they  must  have  felt. 

And  it  is  these  fellows  who  are  going  to 
make  the  epoch-making  drive  on  the  West- 
ern front  this  spring.  Can  you  see  it?  We 
can't. 

Occasionally  they  used  to  come  in  and 
try  to  buy  our  socks,  also  our  soap.  By 
this  time  soap  had  practically  disappeared 
in  Germany.  I  can  remember  the  sentries 
used  to  watch  us  wash  in  the  morning, 
looking  at  the  suds.  One  chap  in  particu- 
lar used  to  come  along  and  rub  the  water 
between  his  fingers  before  we  threw  it  out 
as  though  he  didn't  believe  it  was  soap 
suds. 

It's  really  a  wonder  we  weren't  killed 
half  a  dozen  times  for  we  used  to  jolly  these 
poor  chaps  outrageously.  "  Is  there  lots  of 
soap  in  England?"  they  would  ask.  And 
when  we  would,  of  course,  answer  "Yes," 
they  would  say,  rather  disgustedly:  "No 
soap  in  Germany.  Everything  all  gone. 
No  meat.  No  bread.  No  potatoes.  Every- 
body's crazy  in  Germany."  When  we 

[  120] 


FAMINE  CONDITIONS 

rubbed  it  in  they  didn't  seem  to  mind  very 
much.  As  a  matter  of  fact  they  were  so 
cowed  and  disgusted  with  the  whole  matter 
of  the  war  they  hadn't  enough  spirit  to 
make  any  move.  The  individuality  and 
spirit  had  all  been  hammered  out  of  them. 

One  day  I  was  outside  the  camp  at  some 
special  work  and  saw  the  soldiers'  rations 
issued.  These  provided  for  250  grammes 
of  bread,  about  half  a  pound,  part  of  which 
was  to  be  kept  for  breakfast  the  following 
day,  a  bowl  of  soup  at  noon,  coffee  served 
at  four  P.M.,  and  for  the  evening  meal  one 
small  herring,  served  at  about  five  P.M. 
With  them  it  was  a  crime  to  eat  all  the 
bread  ration  at  once  as  we  did.  Think  of 
a  British  Tommy  existing  on  such  a  ration 
or  putting  up  with  such  a  regulation. 

Our  day's  food  at  the  time  consisted  of 
1 80  grammes  of  bread,  a  hunk  about  four 
inches  square  by  an  inch  and  a  half  thick, 
with  a  bowl  of  mangel  soup.  This  bread, 
though,  was  "War  Prisoners'  Bread,"  as 
described  before,  and  was  a  very  different 
article  to  that  fed  the  soldiers,  bad  enough 

[121] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

as  it  was.  When  our  parcels  came  regu- 
larly, however,  we  were  really  a  good  deal 
better  off  than  they  were.  The  French 
got  practically  the  same  as  we.  The  Rus- 
sians subsisted  at  that  time  on  the  peelings 
of  the  mangels  that  went  to  make  up  our 
soup.  More  retaliation,  you  see. 


[122] 


CHAPTER  VI 

AN   ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

Corporal  McMullen  continues: 

ALONG  in  the  spring  of  1917  some  of  us 
began  to  get  about  all  we  could  stand  of 
camp  life,  and  after  talking  it  over,  decided 
that  nothing  else  could  be  much  worse, 
that  it  was  worth  taking  a  chance  to  strike 
something  better,  and  that  if  we  got  outside 
we  would  at  least  have  the  likelihood  of 
picking  up  a  little  more  food.  I  had  been 
able  to  get  hold  of  a  map  of  northern  Ger- 
many and  a  compass,  these  coming  from 
one  of  the  German  sentries,  in  return  for 
a  pot  of  jam.  That  will  illustrate  how 
badly  off  they  were  when  that  chap  was 
willing  to  risk  his  life — he  would  certainly 
have  been  shot  if  he  had  been  found  out — 
by  trading  these  things  for  a  comparatively 

[123] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

insignificant  amount  of  food.  So  with 
three  other  corporals  and  four  privates,  all 
of  whom  were  looking  for  a  chance  to  get 
away,  we  volunteered  for  farm  work  and 
were  taken  down  to  a  little  village  called 
Stockum  bei  Langendreer,  passing  through 
Essen  again  on  the  way  down .  Here  we  were 
lodged  in  what  was  known  as  Commando 
529,  really  an  old  stone  carpenter  shop  or 
planing  mill,  from  which  the  machinery  had 
been  removed.  We  got  there  before  we 
were  expected  and,  since  no  arrangements 
had  been  made,  were  led  in  to  sleep  on  the 
cold  stone  floor.  Gee,  it  was  cold!  Here 
Salter  and  I  were  picked  by  a  man,  named 
Becker,  a  small  farmer,  who  turned  out  to 
be  one  of  the  worst  slave-drivers  I  can  im- 
agine anyone  getting  under  the  control  of. 
We  found  out  here  how  short  the  food 
supply  really  was  in  Germany.  This  was 
between  harvests,  of  course,  and  about  the 
worst  time  of  the  year  for  them.  We 
learned,  also,  something  of  the  astounding 
control  the  military  authorities  exercise, 
particularly  over  the  agricultural  class. 

[124] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

At  first  Becker  was  very  decent  and  we 
thought  we  were  in  for  a  better  time,  but 
this  treatment  lasted  only  shortly.  When 
he  asked  our  names  and  I  told  him  mine 
was  Fred,  he  said:  "  Ach,  Fritz,  eh?"  You 
can  imagine  how  I  liked  that,  and  he  kept 
on  calling  me  that  as  long  as  he  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  me. 

At  first  we  were  set  to  the  same  job  we 
had  had  on  the  other  farm,  spreading  man- 
ure. Salter  was  a  touchy  beggar,  and  when 
Becker  began  to  abuse  us  a  little  unduly 
Salter  would  get  balky  and  refuse  to  work. 
One  day  he  hit  Becker  with  his  fist.  In  a 
minute  or  two  the  big  brute  came  along 
with  a  chain  trace  and  was  going  to  lay 
Salter  out,  but  he  grabbed  a  pitchfork  and 
went  for  him.  As  a  result,  Salter  was  sent 
back  to  Friedrichsf eld  and  tried  for  attack- 
ing a  civilian.  Becker  sent  up  a  lot  of 
false  testimony  which  somehow  didn't  seem 
to  count  for  much.  Some  little  time  later 
they  sent  for  me  to  testify  in  the  case,  which 
somehow  blew  over  without  much  happen- 
ing to  anybody. 

[125] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

On  the  farm  were  a  number  of  cattle  and 
horses,  all  showing  the  effects  of  lack  of 
nutrition.  Several  of  the  cows  were  milk- 
ers, and  Becker  was  forced  to  keep  them  in 
fairly  good  shape  and  to  sell  the  milk  to  a 
certain  number  of  families  in  the  village. 
He  had  to  get  a  required  amount  of  milk 
out  of  these  cows,  too,  or  there  was  trouble. 
No,  there  were  no  milkmen.  Every  family 
had  to  send  for  its  own  supply,  which  was 
strictly  limited.  Becker  used  to  rail  at 
the  close  military  supervision  and  it  wasn't 
any  wonder.  For  instance  every  crop  on 
his  farm  was  specified  and,  furthermore, 
how  much  acreage  should  be  devoted  to 
that  crop.  And  even  then  he  couldn't  by 
any  means  count  that  crop  his  own.  If,  for 
example,  he  sowed  forty  acres  in  wheat  or 
oats,  it  was  stipulated  that  eighteen  bushels 
from  every  acre  should  be  sold  to  the  gov- 
ernment. Of  course  he  might  raise  as 
much  as  possible  above  this  amount,  but 
even  then  he  could  not  sell  a  bushel  with- 
out an  order  from  the  government  official. 
To  us  it  seemed  absurd,  as  another  instance 

[126] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

will  perhaps  show  better.  One  day,  Becker 
wanted  to  kill  a  pig  out  of  some  twenty- 
two  he  was  raising,  so  as  to  get  some  meat 
for  his  family.  Before  he  could  stick  a 
knife  into  it  he  had  to  get  an  order  of  per- 
mission from  the  gendarme,  or  military 
representative,  in  the  village.  These  gen- 
darmes were  well  grounded  in  military  pro- 
cedure for  they  were  mostly  non-coms,  too 
old  for  active  service.  To  qualify  for  this 
service,  they  must  have  had  at  least  twelve 
years  of  military  service.  Why,  even  the 
policeman  in  Germany  must  have  at  least 
six  years'  experience  in  the  army  before  he 
can  be  appointed.  Even  when  this  permit- 
to-kill  was  secured,  the  product  was  not 
by  any  means  to  be  considered  his  own. 
Of  that  pig  a  part  had  to  be  given  to  the 
gendarme,  a  part  sent  for  the  use  of  the 
army,  and  the  remainder — about  one-fourth 
— had  to  be  divided  up  with  three  or  four 
other  families.  Oh,  they  regulate  things 
nicely  in  Germany,  all  right. 

This  system  was  carried  out  even  further 
when  things  looked  bad.   In  July  that  year, 

[127] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

when  there  seemed  to  be  mighty  little  pro- 
duce of  any  kind  left  on  that  farm,  it  was 
visited  by  a  military  party,  who  were  doing 
similar  inspection  through  the  whole  of 
that  district,  which  confiscated  practically 
everything  Becker  had.  Out  of  eighteen 
pigs,  for  instance,  they  took  away  ten,  and 
mighty  poor-looking  specimens  they  were, 
at  that.  He  had  what  he  thought  would 
be  a  scant  supply  of  turnips  to  keep  things 
going — cattle  and  humans — till  harvest, 
but  out  of  this  supply  the  party  took 
away  about  forty  loads.  Becker  was 
paid  for  this,  yes,  but  in  war  money, 
which  at  that  time  was  about  as  good 
as  Confederate  bills  at  the  end  of  the 
United  States  Civil  War.  I  can  remem- 
ber how  Becker's  wife  and  one  or  two 
other  women  on  the  farm  bellowed  and 
wrung  their  hands  the  morning  that  stuff 
was  taken  away. 

We  learned,  incidentally,  how  short  the 
army  was.  For  instance,  the  allowance  of 
oats  to  horses  in  the  British  army  is  ten 
pounds.  In  the  German  army  it  is  two 

[1281 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

pounds,  and  at  that  time  I  doubt  if  they 
were  getting  any  oats  at  all. 

By  reason  of  the  food  in  our  parcels  we 
were  living  just  then  better  than  the  Ger- 
mans themselves.  That  certainly  applied 
in  that  district  anyway.  I  remember  one 
time  Becker  watched  me  open  one  of  my 
parcels  which  the  mail  had  just  brought  in. 
In  the  box  was  a  paper  bag,  containing 
about  a  pound  of  granulated  sugar.  This 
had  been  broken  and  in  unpacking  it  I 
spilled  about  half  a  teaspoonful  on  the 
earth  floor  of  the  barn.  It  was  rather 
amusing  to  see  Becker  get  down  and  pick 
up  that  sugar,  grain  by  grain.  The  kiddies 
got  to  know  that  our  parcels  brought  us 
chocolate  and  often  they  would  beg  some 
of  it  from  us.  It  used  to  break  our  hearts 
to  see  these  little  children  suffering  so  with 
hunger  and  we  gave  them  what  we  could, 
but  that  was  mighty  little. 

After  Salter  left  I  got  mighty  lonesome, 
and  when  Becker  kept  on  driving  me,  made 
up  my  mind  to  have  a  try  to  get  away. 
Of  course  we  had  lots  of  chances  to  break 

9  [129] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

away  from  the  farm,  since  while  we  were 
fairly  closely  wratched  there  were  times 
when  we  would  be  working  alone.  Since 
we  were  in  prisoners'  clothes,  however,  and 
the  country  was  very  closely  settled,  it  was 
very  difficult  for  anyone  to  make  the  break 
and  get  far,  as  we  afterward  discovered. 
Of  course,  almost  every  farmer  was  using 
one  or  more  prisoners  and  was  armed. 
Provision  was  made  that  he  might  shoot 
at  sight  if  any  attempt  was  made.  And 
a  good-sized  reward  was  offered  for  the 
apprehending  of  any  escaped  prisoner.  So 
that  the  thing  wasn't  as  easy  as  it  might 
look. 

However,  I  had  been  able  to  get  hold  of 
a  little  "good"  money  by  selling  an  extra 
pair  of  boots  to  one  of  the  civilians,  and  had 
also  scared  up  a  sort  of  half-suit  of  civilian 
clothes,  and  on  the  night  of  May  2Oth, 
while  the  sentries  were  sleeping  below, 
Private  Hart  and  I  got  out  of  the  commando, 
where  we  were  all  brought  at  night,  after 
the  day's  work  on  the  various  farms, 
through  a  fanlight  and,  after  a  drop  of 

[130] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

thirty-five  feet  which  stirred  up  my  wound 
a  good  deal  and  also  sprained  my  ankle, 
managed  to  make  the  break.  We  had  been 
saving  up  what  food  we  could  for  sometime, 
and  took  away  with  us  two  tins  of  bully 
beef,  some  biscuits,  and  a  little  chocolate. 

We  managed  to  get  through  the  bush 
and  wandered  around  during  the  night  for 
three  days,  making  as  near  as  we  could 
figure,  towards  the  Dutch  border.  The 
third  day,  though,  we  got  rather  badly  off 
for  water  and  after  getting  lost  for  two  or 
three  hours  in  a  big  bush  we  hit  the  city 
of  Recklinghausen.  By  that  time  we  were 
pretty  well  fagged  out  and  didn't  care  much 
what  happened,  so  decided  to  take  a  chance. 
We  made  a  break  right  through  the  town, 
passing  two  or  three  parties  of  soldiers  and 
officers  and  looking  for  a  drinking  fountain. 
Finally  we  came  on  the  main  street  to  a 
sort  of  club  room  and  decided  that,  come 
what  may,  we  simply  had  to  have  something 
to  drink.  We  went  into  a  big  room  where 
what  seemed  to  be  a  bartender  and  a  mana- 
ger were  sitting  around  and  got  two  or 

[131] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

three  drinks  of  beer.  By  this  time;  you 
see,  we  could  understand  German  fairly 
well  and  could  talk  enough  to  get  us 
through,  unless  they  threw  the  questions 
at  us  rapidly.  We  wanted  something  to 
eat  in  the  worst  way,  but  of  course  we  had 
no  food  cards  as  supplied  to  the  German 
civilians,  so  knew  there  was  no  chance. 

We  got  through  Recklinghausen  all  right, 
all  the  time  nearly  dead  for  water,  and  got 
along  the  road  a  little  farther  to  a  small 
town  named  Houles,  a  sort  of  suburb. 
Here  a  chap  passed  who  looked  at  us  rather 
queerly  but  said  nothing.  We  thought  he 
was  suspicious  so  got  along  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible. We  had  just  gotten  outside  the  town, 
however,  when  looking  back  we  saw  two 
huge  dogs,  like  Russian  wolf-hounds,  com- 
ing behind  us.  I  knew  then  that  these 
must  be  police  dogs.  You  see  there  were 
very  few  dogs  of  any  other  kind  left  by 
that  time.  When  they  came  up  to  us,  one 
of  them  grabbed  Hart  and  gave  him  a  nasty 
bite  on  the  leg.  I  side-stepped,  but  saw  I 
couldn't  get  away  and  as  we  had  nothing 

[132] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

to  defend  ourselves  with  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  stand  still.  When  we  were 
quiet  they  let  go  of  us  but  stood  watching 
us  closely.  In  a  minute  a  gendarme  came 
along  on  a  bicycle. 

"Are  you  prisoners?"  he  asked. 

"  English  ?"  he  asked  again,  when  we 
replied.  The  answer  "Englische  schweine- 
Inunde"  which  came  left  no  doubts  of  his 
opinion  of  us  or  of  the  race. 

It  appeared  that  the  chap  who  had  passed 
us  in  the  town  was  an  electrician  who  was 
working  among  the  prisoners  constantly  and 
thus  had  spotted  us. 

We  were  marched  without  ceremony 
back  to  the  neighboring  prisoners'  barrack 
and  searched.  They  thought  they  did  it 
carefully,  but  I  had  been  able  to  tuck  the 
map  away  into  my  sock  and  rammed  the 
compass  back  into  my  cheek.  Then  we 
were  lodged  in  "strafe  cells."  Beautiful 
spots  they  were.  I  found  myself  incarcer- 
ated with  a  big  Russian  in  an  apartment 
about  three  feet  wide  by  six  feet  six  inches 
long  with  absolutely  no  provision  for  sit- 


OUT  OP  HUNLAND 

ting  or  lying  down.    Comfortable.    I  should 
say. 

That  night  I  was  rather  surprised  to  hear 
someone  speak  to  me  in  English  and  in 
a  moment  the  door  opened.  And  thereby 
hangs  what  seemed  to  be  rather  a  good  joke. 
The  cell  doors  were  fastened  by  rather 
primitive  sliding  bolts.  The  door  of  one 
of  the  half-dozen  cells  in  that  section  of 
the  barrack  was  a  little  looser  than  the 
others.  In  this  cell  had  been  lodged  a 
rather  enterprising  chap,  named  Blacklock, 
a  Canadian  boy,  by  the  way,  from  Carbon, 
Alta.  He  discovered  that  by  some  juggling 
he  could  force  back  the  bolt  and  open  his 
door.  That  done  it  was  easy  for  him  to 
open  the  others.  We  could  hear  the  guards, 
who  stayed  in  another  compartment,  com- 
ing from  a  little  distance  off,  and  while  it 
wasn't  easy  to  get  past  them,  it  was  a  good 
deal  more  comfortable  out  in  the  corridor 
with  the  immediate  sense  of  partial  freedom 
than  in  those  three-foot  cells.  So  while 
we  were  there  I  got  to  know  "Blackie" 
pretty  well.  He,  too,  had  been  caught 

[134] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

during  an  attempted  escape  but  was  aim- 
ing to  try  again  right  away.  So  I  gave 
him  the  compass. 

After  a  few  days  Hart  and  I  with  a  num- 
ber of  others  were  taken  back  to  Friedrichs- 
feld  for  trial.  Here  we  were  brought  before 
a  military  court,  consisting  of  a  captain 
and  four  officers  and  spoke  through  a  ser- 
geant-interpreter. When  asked  why  we 
had  tried  to  escape  we  told  them  of  the 
conditions  on  the  farms  and  particularly 
outlining  Becker's  treatment.  When  we 
got  through  the  presiding  officer  said:  "All 
right,"  and  we  thought  we  were  going  to 
get  off  easily.  Next  day,  however,  the  order 
came  for  a  penalty  to  each  of  us  of  twenty- 
one  days  in  the  black  cells. 

That  punishment  was  given,  I  suppose, 
to  make  certain  that  those  who  received 
it  would  not  try  the  same  thing  again.  A 
good  many  of  the  lads  who  experienced  it 
didn't.  It  surely  was  enough  to  break  a 
man's  nerve  as  well  as  what  health  he  had 
left  after  the  treatment  we  had  been  getting. 
Imagine  spending  three  weeks  in  a  damp, 

[i35l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

absolutely  dark  and  silent  cell,  with  abso- 
lutely no  provision  for  sitting  or  sleeping, 
given  but  a  few  minutes  morning  and  even- 
ing to  get  water  for  the  intervening  hours 
and  to  stretch  one's  legs  a  little  and  with  all 
this  to  be  cut  down  to  a  ration  of  bread  and 
water.  The  spell  usually  handed  out  to  a 
private  was  fourteen  days.  They  went  on 
the  principle,  I  suppose,  that  a  corporal 
was  such  a  superior  being,  he  ought  to  know 
better  and  so  his  punishment  was  greater. 

Two  hundred  and  fifty  grammes  of  war 
prisoners'  bread  per  day  with  a  bowl  of 
thin  soup  every  third  day  was  supposed  to 
keep  a  man  alive  for  that  twenty-one  days. 
In  addition  to  this  there  was  no  chance  of 
any  communication  with  any  other  prisoner. 
I  think  this  enforced  silence  was  the  worst 
of  all.  Anyway  the  sensations  and  the  help- 
less feelings  this  treatment  inspires  are 
impossible  to  describe. 

At  that  I  guess  I  was  better  off  than  most 
of  them.  I  had  sewed  a  supply  of  cut  to- 
bacco up  in  the  lining  of  my  greatcoat 
and  been  able  to  keep  my  pipe  hidden  in  a 

[136] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

fold  of  my  cap.  They  had  taken  all  my 
matches,  however,  and  there  was  consider- 
able of  a  problem  there.  By  this  time, 
however,  I  knew  what  would  get  to  the 
heart  of  the  sentry  quickest.  I  had  kept 
some  soap,  also  in  my  coat  lining,  cut  up 
in  cubes  about  half  an  inch  square.  The 
guard  was  simply  tickled  to  death  to  trade 
me  a  small  box  of  matches  for  one  or 
two  of  these  small  cubes.  That  helped 
wonderfully. 

I  lost  twenty  pounds,  I  guess,  in  that 
three  weeks,  and  when  the  end  finally  came 
and  they  let  me  out  into  the  light  I  was  so 
dizzy  I  could  hardly  stand  up.  However, 
I  got  a  great  welcome  when  I  got  back 
to  the  English  barracks  and  found  waiting 
for  me  there  several  Red  Cross  parcels. 
Gosh,  how  welcome  they  were!  I  don't 
think  food — real  food — ever  tasted  better. 

For  a  week  things  went  along  better  and 
then,  like  a  shot  from  the  blue,  came  an 
order — to  go  back  to  Becker,  who  had  asked 
for  me. 

You  can  fancy  I  wanted  to  go  about  as 

[i37l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

much  as  a  rat  likes  a  trap  but  tnere  was 
nothing  else  for  it.  Neither  Hart  nor  I 
had  given  up  the  idea  of  getting  away,  how- 
ever, and  during  that  week  we  had  been 
lucky  in  getting  hold  of  another  compass 
and  a  splendid  map — both  by  the  soap 
exchange  method.  That  map  was  a  dandy. 
It  looked  to  me  as  though  it  must  have 
been  made  for  the  benefit  of  just  such  chaps 
as  us.  Not  only  did  it  show  the  towns, 
villages,  and  roads,  but  it  gave  every  rail- 
road, bridge,  patch  of  woods,  swamp,  and 
even  where  every  farmer  lived.  With  this 
we  felt  that  chances  were  better.  Of  course 
we  were  not  yet  away  with  these  helpful 
accessories.  When  we  knew  we  were  going 
I  put  it  up  to  Hart  to  carry  the  compass 
while  I  hung  on  to  the  map.  He  got  it 
through  in  his  mouth  some  way,  and  while 
he  was  closely  examined,  as  we  expected, 
managed  to  get  away  with  it.  After  a 
good  deal  of  planning,  I  decided  to  stow  the 
map  inside  an  old  cracked  looking-glass  I 
carried.  We  knew  if  they  caught  us  with 
either  it  would  mean  twenty-one  days  more 

[138] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

in  "  black, "  perhaps  worse.  When  it  came 
my  turn  and  I  was  told  to  turn  out  every- 
thing, I  passed  over  the  looking-glass 
as  carelessly  as  possible.  The  inspector 
handled  this  mighty  carefully,  even  going 
so  far  as  to  unwind  some  of  the  old  string 
I  had  around  it.  I  was  on  pins  and  needles 
for  a  minute,  for  the  map  was  folded  be- 
tween the  glass  itself  and  the  wooden  back, 
and  he  would  have  found  it  sure  if  he  had 
unwrapped  it.  Good  fortune  stepped  in 
for  once,  however,  for  after  a  minute  or 
two  he  tossed  it  back  to  me.  Gee!  I  was 
almost  afraid  he'd  hear  me  breathe  with 
relief. 

Well,  we  got  on  down  to  Stockum  again 
and  this  time  found  things  considerably 
better.  It  was  harvest  time,  you  see,  there 
was  more  food  to  be  had,  and  besides  we 
were  able  to  swipe  more  stuff.  But  how 
Becker  did  shove  me  at  that  harvest.  Up 
before  dawn,  work  till  dark  with  only  a 
few  minutes  at  noon.  He  certainly  got  all 
he  paid  for  out  of  me  just  then.  I  was 
able  to  do  more  than  I  had  been  before,  too, 

[139] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

for  with  more  food  my  strength  began  to 
come  back.  Say,  it  was  great !  Imagine  being 
put  out  to  harvest  ripe  wheat  after  living  on 
what  we  had  put  up  with  for  over  a  year. 
Why  I  used  to  eat  wheat  all  day.  The  vege- 
tables were  being  brought  in  then,  too,  and 
we  were  able  to  get  good  supplies  of  carrots, 
onions,  beets,  and  potatoes  and  make  up  a 
mighty  good  vegetable  stew  in  the  canton- 
ment after  the  guards  were  asleep.  I  tell 
you  we  were  living  like  kings  just  then. 

And  with  returning  strength  I  guess  I 
began  to  get  a  little  cocky.  Becker  wasn't 
so  bad  at  first,  but  as  the  weeks  went  by, 
his  wild  temper  returned  and  he  began  at 
his  old  tactics.  Finally  one  day  out  in  the 
field  he  ordered  me  to  do  something  beyond 
my  strength  and  when  I  refused  came  at 
me  with  a  whip.  I  held  him  up  with  a 
pitchfork  and  for  a  while  we  had  it  pretty 
hot  and  heavy.  That  night  he  reported 
to  the  guard  that  I  had  refused  to  work. 
I  guess  the  guard  understood  the  situation 
— Becker's  reputation  was  pretty  well- 
known  around  those  parts — for  in  two  or 

[140] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

three  days  I  was  transferred  to  a  farmer 
named  Speck.  This  old  chap  certainly 
used  me  well.  I  had  all  the  vegetables  I 
wanted  to  eat,  about  the  same  as  the  family 
had,  and  the  hours  and  the  work  were  both 
easier.  For  hours  at  a  time  I  would  be  left 
alone  in  the  fields  with  absolutely  no  super- 
vision. It  would  seem  that  this  would 
have  been  a  good  time  to  make  a  break  for 
it,  but  I  did  not  want  to  go  alone  and  be- 
sides I  knew  it  was  almost  useless  to  try 
to  get  very  far  with  my  prisoner's  marked 
suit  on.  I  had  tried  to  get  hold  of  some 
civilian  clothes  but  couldn't  manage  it. 
However,  I  talked  it  over  with  Hart,  who 
was  on  another  farm,  and  finally  decided 
to  have  another  try  at  it  the  next  Sunday 
night.  We  chose  Sunday  to  have  the  bene- 
fit of  the  day's  rest.  Even  yet  my  wound 
bothered  me  a  good  deal  after  a  long  day's 
work  and  I  didn't  want  to  make  matters 
any  more  troublesome  than  necessary. 

That  was  last  October,  the  first  day  of 
the  month.  And  I  don't  think  I  will  ever 
forget  that  night. 

[141] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

While  Hart  and  I  had  been  scouting 
around  the  commando — you  will  remember 
I  said  this  was  a  big  stone  building  which 
had  been  used  as  a  planing  mill  before  the 
war — we  found  one  day  a  loose  trap  door 
in  the  floor  of  an  unused  room,  beside  the 
one  the  sentries  slept  in.  Without  telling 
anyone,  we  had  gotten  that  door  up  and 
had  dropped  down  to  see  what  lay  below, 
one  of  us  remaining  on  guard  above  while 
the  other  was  below.  We  found  that  this 
trap  gave  entrance  to  a  shaft  or  tunnel 
filled  with  sawdust,  shavings,  and  lumber 
cuttings.  Gradually  we  got  this  passage 
cleaned  out  and  found  that  it  was  about 
forty  feet  long,  and  ran  below  another  trap 
door  in  a  different  part  of  the  building. 
Evidently  this  had  been  used  as  a  sort  of 
shaft — housing  to  carry  power  under  the 
floor  from  one  part  of  the  building  to  the 
other.  Anyway,  we  got  ourselves  pretty 
well  acquainted  with  it  so  that  we  could 
get  through  in  the  dark,  and  also  got  a 
dozen  or  so  screws  out  of  the  window  in  the 
outside  room. 

[142] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

That  night  we  managed  to  get  our  kit- 
bags  downstairs  and  in  the  shaft  before  the 
sentry  saw  us  up  to  bed,  and  then  about 
half -past  one  we  got  up  and  with  our  boots 
in  our  hands,  started  down  that  wooden 
stairs.  You  can  Imagine  we  didn't  take 
any  chances  of  making  the  treads  creak. 
We  stepped  mighty  carefully,  placing  our 
weight  gradually  at  the  supported  edge  of 
the  tread.  When  we  got  down,  though, 
we  had  to  practically  walk  over  those  two 
sleeping  sentries.  Talk  about  your  heart 
being  in  your  mouth.  I  think  it  got  up 
somewhere  in  the  top  of  my  head  that  night 
and  didn't  get  down  again  till  I  got  safely 
into  Holland. 

Well,  somehow  or  other  we  got  down  that 
first  trap  door.  I  remember  how  mad  I 
was  at  Hart  who  let  the  door  down  after 
him  with  quite  a  little  slap.  I  suppose  it 
wasn't  much  or  it  would  surely  have  wakened 
those  guards,  but  at  the  time  it  seemed 
like  the  explosion  of  a  sixty-pounder  to  me. 
From  that  on  was  easy,  even  though  we  had 
to  open  that  window,  get  through,  close  it 

[i43l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

afterward,  and  get  across  a  nasty  bit  of 
barbed  wire  which  was  carefully  planted 
all  around  the  commando.  However,  we 
got  off  without  seeing  anybody  and  that 
night  travelled  about  ten  or  twelve  kilos. 
We  wanted  to  go  farther  but  realized  the 
need  of  good  cover  during  the  day.  You 
see,  we  were  still  in  our  prisoners1  uniforms, 
though  we  had  a  sweater  coat  pulled  on  over 
the  coat,  and  a  coat  we  had  each  gotten 
from  England  and  which  had  escaped  mark- 
ing, over  that.  Our  trousers  were  still 
banded,  though,  and  we  knew  if  anybody 
looked  at  us  at  all  carefully  they  would 
soon  spot  us  as  prisoners.  Thus,  as  we 
appreciated  thoroughly,  it  was  necessary 
to  travel  only  at  night  and  then  to  keep 
away  from  roads  as  much  as  possible. 

Somewhere  along  before  dawn  we  struck 
what  looked  like  a  good- si  zed  bush  and 
thought  we  had  better  lay  up  there.  You 
see,  one  of  the  difficulties  of  the  situation 
was  finding  suitable  cover  while  it  was  still 
dark  to  hide  in  for  the  day.  This  time  we 
got  settled  down  and  didn't  find  out  till 

[i44] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

it  was  daylight  and  too  late  to  move  that 
we  were  only  a  few  feet  away  from  a  fre- 
quently used  path.  We  were  in  a  sort  of 
fern  bed,  from  which  we  could  look  out  but 
which  it  was  difficult  for  anyone  to  see 
through.  During  the  day  two  men  and  a 
boy  passed  on  the  path  not  more  than 
twelve  feet  away.  That  was  the  first  of 
some  mighty  close  shaves.  They  seemed 
so  at  first.  We  got  used  to  such  things 
after  a  little  while. 

It  got  dark  early  at  that  time  of  the  year 
and  that  night  we  got  started  about  7.30. 
Since  the  roads  seemed  to  be  a  good  deal 
used  at  night  we  struck  across  through  the 
country  by  compass,  travelling  through  the 
fields  most  of  the  time.  About  3  A.M.,  we 
came  out  of  a  patch  of  woods  the  map 
showed  to  be  near  Recklinghausen,  and 
around  the  side  of  a  small  mountain  till 
we  struck  the  River  Lippe.  There  was  no 
bridge  here  and  we  couldn't  cross  the  river 
because  Hart  couldn't  swim  so  we  decided 
to  follow  the  road.  Coming  around  a  bend 
we  saw  a  house  with  a  bright  light  in 

[  H5  1 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

one  of  the  windows.  By  this  time  we  were 
tired  and  wanted  some  water,  so  we  thought 
we'd  scout  around  the  place  to  try  to  locate 
a  well.  Who  do  you  think  that  house  be- 
longed to?  Well,  when  we  got  up  within 
eyeshot  of  the  window  who  did  we  see  but 
a  gendarme  writing  at  a  table,  probably 
making  out  some  of  the  dozens  of  reports 
those  fellows  have  to  hand  in  to  the  govern- 
ment, in  uniform  and  helmet,  and  with 
a  rifle  beside  him.  No  thank  you.  We 
decided  to  look  elsewhere  for  a  drink. 

Our  map  showed  a  bridge  somewhere  in 
this  district  and  about  two  miles  farther 
we  found  it.  Just  in  front  of  it,  however, 
were  three  big  steam  rollers,  just  about 
like  we  use  here,  which  had  been  evidently 
used  during  the  day  in  roadmaking.  One 
or  two  lights  indicated  some  one  around. 
We  crawled  up  mighty  carefully,  and  by 
listening  learned  that  there  were  three  watch- 
men. We  knew  that  most  of  the  bridges 
were  guarded  and  hardly  knew  what  to  do 
but  since  we  had  to  get  on,  finally  we  skirted 
the  rollers,  got  up  quietly  to  the  bridge 

[146] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

approaches  and  made  a  dash  over.  It's  a 
wonder  there  wasn't  a  guard  somewhere 
round  on  the  other  side.  P'raps  there 
was.  However,  we  got  across  without 
stirring  up  any  trouble. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  farther  on  we  hit  a 
railway,  which  our  map  showed  ran  into 
Haltern,  a  good-sized  railway  center.  We 
scented  the  possibility  of  trouble  here,  with 
trains  passing  all  the  time,  so  skirted  the 
place,  going  through  some  of  the  thinly- 
settled  suburbs.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
town  we  hit  a  road  we  thought  was  the 
right  one  by  the  map,  which  showed  two 
roads,  one  running  to  the  right,  the  other 
to  the  left.  As  it  happened,  we  hit  a  bend 
in  the  road  running  to  the  right  and  think- 
ing it  was  the  one  we  wanted,  started  along 
it  and  followed  it  till  midnight,  when  from 
a  few  landmarks  shown  on  the  map  we 
knew  we  were  astray.  That  road  led  right 
into  Dulman  camp,  only  a  short  distance 
away,  where  Jack  spent  several  weeks  of 
his  time. 

Finally,  after  a  good  deal  of  trouble  we 

[i47l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

got  across  the  country  to  the  right  road, 
and  coming  suddenly  round  a  bend  which 
hid  anything  ahead,  found  ourselves,  be- 
fore we  even  dreamed  of  it,  in  the  outskirts 
of  another  city, — the  name,  somehow  I  can't 
remember.  There  were  some  people  stand- 
ing on  the  road  here,  and  we  knew  if  they 
had  seen  us  and  we  started  back  they 
would  suspect  something,  so  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  to  pike  along.  And 
along  we  went,  right  through  the  main 
street  of  that  town — a  good-sized  place, 
too,  about  fifteen  thousand,  I  should  think 
— under  the  electric  lights  and  passed  lighted 
stores  and  houses.  Shortly  after  we  got 
into  the  place  we  struck  a  trolley  track 
and  a  little  farther  on  a  knot  of  people  was 
standing,  apparently  waiting  for  a  car. 
We  shoved  right  past  them  and  while  the 
red  stripes  on  our  trousers  and  our  special 
hats  should  have  spotted  us  in  a  second, 
nobody  seemed  to  notice  us.  You  can 
imagine  we  had  some  creepy  feelings, 
though.  Several  times  I  saw  myself  back 
in  those  black  cells  at  Friedrichsfeld  again. 

[148] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

We  were  a  little  anxious,  too,  when  after 
passing  a  policeman,  coming  up  through  a 
subway,  and  passing  along  perhaps  fifty 
yards,  we  saw  a  sentry  marching  up  and 
down  a  beat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street.  We  found  later  that  this  was  a 
"  Gef angenlager, "  or  prison  camp,  right  in 
the  town,  which  housed  a  number  of  prison- 
ers who  were  working  in  two  or  three  of 
the  town's  factories.  Probably  some  of  our 
own  fellows  were  sleeping  up  just  above  the 
street  there  as  we  went  past.  That  sentry 
seemed  to  eye  us  up  and  down  and  we  thought 
the  goose  was  cooked  all  right  and  that 
there' d  be  nothing  left  but  the  gravy,  but 
somehow  or  other  the  shadows  must  have 
hidden  us.  There  was  a  big  arc  light  just 
there  too.  Anyhow,  we  got  past  him. 

A  little  farther  along  we  met  a  boy  who 
for  some  reason  or  other  followed  us  for  a 
long  piece.  Hart  said:  "That  kid's  spot- 
ted us.  He's  going  to  give  us  away."  I 
said:  "We'd  better  pike  on,  anyway."  We 
hardly  liked  to  look  behind  but  couldn't 
resist  the  temptation,  and  I  can  tell  you, 

[149] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

we  were  mightily  relieved  when  that  lad 
turned  down  into  a  side  alley  as  though 
he  had  been  making  for  it  all  the  time. 

It  began  to  get  light  when  we  got  well 
out  of  the  town  so  it  was  up  to  us  to  hunt 
for  cover.  There  wasn't  any  bush  any- 
where round  so  when  we  came  to  a  turn 
with  an  embankment  over  the  road  at  one 
side,  we  decided  to  try  it  up  there,  parti- 
cularly as  we  heard  a  wagon  coming  along 
the  road.  At  one  spot  there  were  a  few 
bushes  and  while  we  were  all  right  so  far 
as  being  seen  from  the  road  was  concerned, 
we  knew  we  could  be  seen  from  any  of  the 
fields  around.  We  found  a  shallow  ditch 
just  behind  the  embankment  and  for  lack 
of  anything  better,  got  down  into  that. 

It  wasn't  so  bad — at  first.  But  during 
the  morning  it  began  to  rain  like  pitchforks 
and  after  a  few  minutes  the  mud  and  water 
poured  down  that  ditch  like  a  sewer.  You 
can  imagine  what  it  felt  like  to  be  lying 
there,  holding  on  to  the  bottom,  so  that  we 
wouldn't  be  carried  down.  All  the  time 
there  were  wagons  which  we  could  see 

[150] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

plainly  passing  along  the  road.  Several 
times  we  thought  we'd  get  out  and  try  to 
get  a  better  spot  but  we  wouldn't  any  more 
than  sit  up  when  another  wagon  would  pop 
into  sight.  Oh,  that  was  some  day,  all'right. 
That  night  we  were  in  splendid  shape. 
"Aber  nicht"  as  the  Huns  say.  Beside 
being  wet, — I  was  going  to  say  drowned — 
and  slimy  with  mud,  every  joint  seemed 
stiff  and  it  was  a  weary  and  mighty  low- 
spirited  pair  that  started  out  as  soon  as  it 
became  dark  and  the  regular  traffic  on  the 
road  stopped.  After  we  tramped  along  for 
about  six  kilos  with  the  water  sloshing 
in  our  boots  we  came  to  a  little  hamlet, 
which  the  map  designated  asKleinereichen. 
This  was  merely  a  farming  center  and  all 
the  farmers  were  asleep.  A  feature  of  this 
place  seemed  to  be  a  big  hotel,  which  was 
probably  a  sanitarium  of  some  kind.  We 
should  have  skirted  it,  particularly  when 
we  saw  it  was  lighted  up,  but  we  were  too 
tired  and  discouraged  by  that  time  to  care 
much  what  happened  and  so  plugged  along 
past  it.  There  was  a  big  verandah  out  in 

[151] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

front  and  on  this  were  a  bunch  of  people, 
probably  guests,  singing  German  songs 
and  having  a  first-rate  time.  They  cer- 
tainly looked  us  over  as  we  went  past,  but 
apparently  didn't  notice  anything  out  of 
the  ordinary. 

A  little  later  we  got  absolutely  lost.  Can 
you  imagine  it?  In  an  enemy  country, 
trying  to  make  your  way  without  being 
seen  and  only  able  to  steer  a  course  by  a 
compass  and  a  map.  If  we  could  have 
seen  the  map  it  would  have  been  a  good 
deal  easier,  but  of  course  we  scarcely  dared 
to  strike  a  light  anywhere.  When  we  did 
look  at  the  map  we  used  to  hold  it  under 
our  coats.  Anyhow,  just  outside  that  little 
village  we  came  to  a  fork  in  the  road  and, 
somehow  or  other,  we  took  the  wrong  turn- 
ing. That  took  us  ten  or  twelve  miles  out 
of  our  way  and  when  we  discovered  how 
we  were  travelling,  we  found  we  were  hit- 
ting it  back  into  Germany  again.  Of 
course  when  the  stars  were  shining  it  wasn't 
so  bad.  We  knew  enough  to  pick  our  way 
then.  But  that  night  was  wet.  Indeed, 

[152] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

it  rained  off  and  on  for  about  forty-eight 
hours.  Following  this  road  we  passed 
through  another  little  town,  Hayden,  which 
we  remember  particularly  by  reason  of  the 
old-fashioned  gabled  houses.  Here  the  wag- 
ons were  all  drawn  up  in  front  of  the 
barns  along  the  street  ready  for  use  in  the 
morning,  and  as  we  passed  along  the  street 
we  could  hear  the  cattle  stamping  in  the 
stables.  Just  as  we  were  getting  out  of  the 
place,  a  big  bell  made  us  jump,  and  after  it 
struck  four  a  set  of  beautiful  chimes  started 
to  play.  One  old  chap  on  the  outskirts 
had  apparently  risen  earlier  than  his  neigh- 
bors for  he  stood  out  in  front  of  his  house 
in  the  dusk  and  as  we  went  by  hollered 
* '  Guten  morgen. ' '  Of  course  we  hollered  back. 
We  wondered  what  he  would  have  thought 
if  he  had  any  idea  who  we  were. 

We  made  good  time  that  night  in  spite 
of  our  low  spirits.  Travelled  fast  to  keep 
warm,  I  guess.  There  was  nothing  else 
to  warm  us  up.  We  had  started  out  with 
a  supply  of  biscuits  and  bully  beef  from  our 
parcels  which  we  had  counted  on  putting  us 

[i53l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

through  three  days.  It  lasted  about  two, 
and  by  this  time  we  had  absolutely  nothing 
left.  After  the  way  we  had  been  filling  up 
on  wheat  and  vegetable  stew,  it  was  rather 
hard  on  us.  We  appreciated  this  when  we 
got  along  ten  or  twelve  miles  farther  to 
Velin,  another  little  country  village.  By 
this  time  it  was  getting  light  and  we  could 
see  the  people  getting  the  fires  lit  for  break- 
fast. I  remember  one  dear  old  grand- 
motherly-looking woman  we  saw  going  in 
with  an  armful  of  wood  and  I  said  to  Hart: 
"I  suppose  her  sons  are  all  off  to  the  war 
and  she  has  to  chop  up  that  wood  herself. 
I  wonder  what  she's  going  to  cook?"  Poor 
people.  Besides  vegetables  there  wasn't 
anything  much  to  cook. 

Shortly  after  this  we  heard  some  wagons 
coming  and  knew  we  would  have  to  get 
under  cover  quick.  So,  taking  a  chance, 
and  not  knowing  what  we  might  run  into, 
we  took  a  private  road  and  going  past  a 
house,  got  into  a  little  patch  of  scrub  trees, 
the  patch  being  perhaps  about  twenty 
feet  across.  To  get  there  we  had  to  get 

[i54l 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

past  a  man  cutting  clover  in  a  field.  We 
hid  behind  something  or  other  till  he  went 
into  the  barn  and  then  skinned  across  the 
field.  During  the  day  some  children  came 
right  past  us  within  a  few  feet.  It's  a 
mystery  how  they  didn't  discover  us  for 
there  was  practically  nothing  between  them 
and  us. 

We  knew  this  couldn't  happen  again, 
that  if  anyone  else  came  along  it  would  be 
the  end  of  us  so  we  decided  to  take  a  chance 
and  to  try  to  get  into  what  looked  like 
a  good-sized  patch  of  woods  to  the  left. 
When  we  got  over  there  after  a  good  dash, 
we  found  it  was  only  fifty  yards  through 
and  was  crossed  with  paths,  which  were 
evidently  frequently  used.  However,  we 
got  down  a  little  farther  to  a  copse  of  firs, 
crawled  in  under  them  and  spent  the  rest 
of  the  day  there. 

It  rained  again  that  day,  a  cold,  disheart- 
ening drizzle,  and  by  this  time  we  were  in 
pretty  bad  shape  and  about  ready  to  give  up. 

By  the  map  we  knew  that  we  were  about 
twenty-five  to  thirty  kilos  (about  sixteen 

[i55l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

miles)  from  the  border,  and  expected  that 
we  would  have  to  take  another  day  to  it. 
So  that  night  we  started  off  again,  with 
gnawing  stomachs,  and  with  clothes  still 
soaked.  My,  how  that  rain  did  pound  into 
our  faces!  A  regular  hurricane  blew,  too. 
I  suppose  it  was  the  very  best  kind  of  a 
night  for  us  to  travel,  there  was  no  one  else 
on  the  road.  Just  about  then  we  weren't 
thinking  much  about  that. 

Along  toward  morning  we  came  to  a  drive- 
shed  placed  in  front  of  and  only  a  little  dis- 
tance away  from  a  house  on  the  roadside. 
By  this  time  I  was  too  tired  to  go  on  any 
farther,  and  while  I  knew  it  was  taking  a 
chance,  I  said  to  Hart:  "This  looks  like  a 
good  place  to  kip."  He  agreed,  and  when 
we  went  around  to  investigate,  we  found 
the  sides  of  the  place  piled  to  the  top  with 
straw — wheat  straw  on  one  side,  oat  straw 
on  the  other.  We  scurried  around  for  a 
little  while,  trying  to  get  something  to  eat 
and  found  a  few  hard  potatoes.  They  were 
better  than  nothing,  but  raw  potatoes  are 
not  particularly  refreshing  any  time. 

[156] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

About  three  o'clock,  I  guess  it  was,  we 
climbed  up  the  wooden  posts,  our  coats 
catching  on  the  dowels,  and  finally  tumbled 
down  on  the  straw.  We  thought  it  would 
be  warm,  but  the  wind  blew  in  all  around 
the  place.  I  won't  soon  forget  that  night. 
By  this  time  the  wet  and  exposure  had 
begun  to  affect  my  wound  and  I  was  in 
agony.  After  we  lay  there  a  while,  I  said 
to  Hart:  "I  can't  stand  this  any  longer. 
I've  got  to  have  a  smoke." 

"For  God's  sake,  don't,"  he  shot  back. 
"You'll  set  the  place  on  fire  or  somebody 
will  be  sure  to  see  the  light." 

For  a  while  this  seemed  good  advice, 
but  eventually  I  had  to  get  out  my  old 
pipe  and  by  holding  the  match  under  my 
coat  I  managed  to  get  her  going.  And  it 
was  a  big  comfort. 

At  daybreak  the  farmer  and  a  Russian 
prisoner  came  down  into  the  shed  and  we 
heard  the  farmer  tell  the  Russ  how  to  make 
sheaves  out  of  the  straw  and  send  him  to 
climb  up  one  of  the  piles.  At  first  we  had 
been  looking  over  the  top  of  the  pile,  but 

[i57l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

of  course  when  they  came  near  we  dropped 
back.  Well,  when  that  Russ  started  to 
climb,  it  sounded  as  though  he  was  making 
for  our  side  of  the  shed  and  we  got  ready 
to  throttle  him;  but,  for  some  reason  we 
could  never  understand,  he  turned  back 
and  climbed  up  into  the  other  mow.  He 
seemed  to  be  a  fairly  happy  cuss,  for  he 
worked  away  there,  singing  as  he  worked, 
all  morning. 

During  the  morning  the  farmer  came  back 
and  was  so  pleased  with  the  work,  that  he 
began  to  praise  him.  Say,  I  wish  they'd 
sent  me  to  that  farmer  instead  of  to  Becker. 
It  turned  out  rather  funny,  however,  for 
the  Russian  didn't  understand  what  the 
farmer  meant;  thought  he  was  kidding  him, 
I  guess,  and  began  to  get  mad.  When  the 
farmer  went  away  he  began  to  swear  like 
sixty. 

Several  times  I  was  going  to  holler  to 
him  but  we  had  learned  from  experience 
that  you  couldn't  always  trust  these  fellows 
so  I  didn't  like  to. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  it  got  so  cold  and 

[158] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

I  got  so  miserable  that  I  decided  I  had  to 
have  another  smoke .  Hart  wasn '  t  a  smoker 
and  he  got  mad — I  guess  it  isn't  much 
wonder — when  he  saw  me  begin  to  light 
matches  in  the  straw.  I  was  able  to  get 
the  old  pipe  down  under  my  coat  and  keep 
the  smoke  pretty  well  in,  however,  for  our 
Russian  friend  certainly  didn't  suspect 
anything.  And  how  that  smoke  did  warm 
me  up. 

That  surely  was  a  long  day.  I  guess  we 
were  too  miserable  or  too  excited  to  sleep. 
We  got  scarcely  any  sleep  during  the  four 
days  we  were  on  the  way.  That  night, 
though,  we  got  started  off  again,  as  we 
hoped,  on  the  last  leg.  We  had  heard  how 
hard  it  was  to  get  over  the  border,  but  we 
kept  on  going  and  hoping. 

And  that  night  we  got  lost  again.  We 
came  to  a  bend  in  the  road  with  a  railroad 
running  through  it  and,  thinking  we  were 
going  in  the  right  direction,  cut  across  the 
fields.  Here  we  hit  another  road  but  since 
we  struck  this  on  an  angle,  couldn't  tell 
which  direction  to  take.  We  went  along 

[i59l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

what  seemed  to  be  right,  however,  but 
after  a  while  came  to  a  village  which  wasn't 
shown  on  the  map,  so  we  knew  we  must  be 
astray.  It's  a  funny  thing,  but  when  Jack 
began  to  tell  me  about  the  route  he  followed 
I  found  he  got  lost  in  about  the  same  way 
on  this  same  strip  of  road. 

Coming  back  we  piked  along  and  finally 
came  to  a  place  we  were  able  to  identify 
as  Oding.  As  we  walked  along  we  heard 
shots  and  I  remember  noting  to  Hart  that 
it  seemed  as  if  we  were  coming  up  into  the 
firing  line  again.  It  sounded  like  old  times, 
just  like  coming  up  into  the  communication 
trenches. 

We  got  quite  a  scare  at  a  bend  here,  for 
as  we  came  along  some  dogs  started  to 
bark.  We  scooted  as  fast  as  we  could 
across  a  field  but  went  back  when  they 
didn't  seem  to  be  coming  any  nearer  and 
then  found  that  they  were  tied  up,  evidently 
police  dogs.  A  minute  later  two  lights 
swept  into  view  coming  down  the  road  and 
we  just  had  time  to  duck  across  the  ditch 
and  into  a  patch  of  trees  when  two  German 

f  160! 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

soldiers  came  along  on  bicycles  carrying 
strong  seachlights.  If  we  hadn't  seen  those 
lights  they  would  have  had  us  as  sure  as 
guns.  As  they  jogged  past  somewhat  lei- 
surely we  were  able  to  hear  them  talking 
about  looking  out  for  some  escaped  prison- 
ers. Comforting,  wasn't  it? 

We  worked  around  and  through  Oding, 
passing  the  town  about  12  P.M.,  and  a  little 
way  past  came  on  a  signpost  which  noted 
that  it  was  only  seven  and  a  half  kilos 
to  Winterswijk,  a  Dutch  town,  lying  just 
across  the  border.  From  this  we  figured 
that  we  were  only  three  or  four  kilos  from 
the  border. 

We  had  been  told  that  the  dividing  line 
was  very  closely  guarded,  and  after  talk- 
ing it  over,  decided  that  it  would  be  better 
to  leave  the  road  here  and  to  work  over  on 
a  radius,  trying  to  keep  clear  of  the  sentries. 
It  was  a  very  fortunate  thing  we  did.  Ac- 
cordingly, we  went  out  about  three  quarters 
of  a  mile  till  we  struck  a  good-sized  bush. 
Getting  into  this  we  carried  along  till 
we  came  to  a  river — the  Lour.  Just  here 

[  161  ] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

there  were  two  big  white  crosses  on  two 
trees.  We  thought  this  meant  something 
and  stopped  to  investigate.  I  was  just 
about  to  light  a  match  to  get  a  better 
look  at  them,  when  we  heard  some- 
thing coming.  Whatever  it  was,  was  close, 
mightily  so.  We  flopped  at  once  right  in 
our  tracks  and  lay  like  logs,  scarcely  breath- 
ing. In  a  moment  two  men,  who  when 
they  got  close  we  identified  as  sentries, 
passed  within  twelve  feet  of  us.  If  they 
had  looked  to  one  side  they  could  hardly 
have  helped  seeing  us  for  we  had  abso- 
lutely no  cover  and  it  wasn't  dark  enough 
to  hide  us  at  all  comfortably. 

After  things  settled  down,  we  started  on 
again,  travelling  northwest  along  the  Lour 
which  we  knew  flowed  into  Holland  and 
thus  would  land  us  there  ultimately.  As 
you  can  imagine  we  were  beastly  tired, 
however,  and  after  a  while  I  said  to  Hart: 
"  Surely  we  ought  to  be  out  now.  Let's 
take  another  chance." 

When  we  hit  the  road  again  it  was  be- 
ginning to  get  a  little  light  and  we  noticed 

[162] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

that  the  signpost's  were  different.  In  Ger- 
many they  are  red,  white,  and  black.  These 
were  red,  white,  and  blue.  The  houses 
looked  better  here,  too.  The  trees  were 
pruned  and  there  were  occasional  hedges, 
something  we  hadn't  seen  in  Germany. 
You  can  imagine  how  we  felt.  I  was  so 
confident,  I  got  out  my  old  pipe  and  began 
to  light  up.  But — coming  round  a  bend 
we  saw  a  big  arc  light;  underneath  it  a 
guardhouse  and  a  couple  of  sentries  on  a 
beat  across  a  spot  where  the  road  was 
fenced  off. 

That  was  some  tumble,  I  can  tell  you. 

I  grabbed  Hart  who  didn't  see  the  light 
for  a  second  and  we  got  off  the  road  in  a 
hurry.  ''Gosh,  that  was  a  narrow  shave !" 
he  said.  "I  guess  we're  not  in  Holland 
yet." 

We  got  off  on  a  little  side  road  and  after 
going  a  few  yards  found  a  gully  which 
seemed  to  lead  in  the  direction  we  wanted. 
I  suppose  it  would  have  been  safer,  perhaps, 
to  have  stayed  in  that  spot  for  another  day, 
but  we  were  so  near  dead  we  didn't  see  how 

[163] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

we  could  stand  it  any  longer  and  were 
ready  to  take  any  chance.  So  we  got  down 
in  that  gully,  which  had  six  inches  of  water 
in  the  bottom  and  crawled  along  in  this 
for  three  quarters  of  a  mile  past  that  sentry 
post  and  till  we  knew  we  must  be  across 
the  border.  When  we  finally  dared  to  get 
up  and  walk  we  struck  a  letter  box,  which 
bore  a  lion  instead  of  the  eagle  which  is  al- 
ways placed  on  the  German  boxes.  A  few 
minutes  more  brought  us  into  Winterswijk. 
How  did  we  feel?  Well,  like  jumping 
about  forty  feet  into  the  air.  But  when  we 
were  so  weak  and  tired  we  could  scarcely 
stand,  there  wasn't  very  much  fireworks 
about  it.  And  even  yet  we  weren't  abso- 
lutely sure.  However,  by  this  time  it  was 
getting  daylight,  and  we  met  several  people 
all  of  whom  spoke  in  German.  This  rather 
puzzled  us  again.  Finally  we  got  down  to 
a  railway  station  and  asked  a  switchman 
out  in  the  yards  if  this  was  in  Holland. 
At  first,  as  was  perhaps  natural,  he  seemed 
astounded,  but  in  a  minute  he  came  back 
witha"Jah!  Jah!"  Then  we  were  happy. 

[164] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

We  walked  into  the  station,  absolutely 
too  tired  to  go  farther,  not  knowing  what 
treatment  we  would  receive  and  not  caring 
much,  either.  When  we  told  them  that 
we  were  escaped  British  prisoners  they 
kicked  up  quite  a  fuss  and  said:  "Germans 
no  good. ' '  We  had  no  money  but  they  took 
pity  on  us,  and  after  a  wash,  which  felt 
mighty  good,  they  gave  us  a  good  meal  of 
coffee  and  bread  and  butter. 

Butter — Say,  but  it  was  good!  That 
was  the  first  butter  I  had  tasted  since  we 
had  been  in  the  trenches. 

When  we  got  freshened  up  a  little,  one 
of  the  guards  told  us  we  would  have  to  go 
back  to  the  Holland  guard  on  the  border 
to  report  and  we  were  taken  by  a  short 
route  back  to  the  same  spot  we  had  been 
frightened  of  and  had  crawled  that  three 
quarters  of  a  mile  around  in  that  muddy 
ditch  the  night  before.  No,  we  weren't  a 
bit  mad  at  ourselves.  We  were  too  dashed 
glad  to  be  out  of  Germany  to  bother  about 
a  little  thing  like  that. 

Here  they  made  us  give  our  names,  ex- 

[165] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

plaining  that  these  had  to  be  sent  back  with 
a  report  of  the  escape,  and  asked  us  a  few 
questions.  Then  we  were  taken  back  into 
Winterswijk,  held  till  about  ten  o'clock, 
and  were  sent  off  then  to  Didam,  where  a 
quarantine  camp  was  established.  While 
we  hadn't  yet  achieved  actual  freedom  we 
could  see  the  necessity  of  the  various  steps 
taken  to  prevent  trouble  and  were  mighty 
glad  to  act  accordingly,  knowing  that 
shortly  we  would  get  back  again  to  good 
old  Blighty. 

We  were  held  in  the  Didam  quarantine 
station  for  about  two  weeks  along  with 
forty  others,  French,  Russians,  and  Bel- 
gians, and  while  we  were  still  under  military 
surveillance  were  in  such  different  condi- 
tions than  we  had  been  in  for  almost  two 
years,  that  it  seemed  heavenly.  We  were 
able  to  get  really  clean  here,  were  comfort- 
ably lodged,  and  got  plenty  to  eat.  Plenty, 
that  would  be,  for  an  ordinary  man.  After 
our  experience  it  didn't  seem  that  we  could 
ever  get  filled  up.  To  make  up  for  our 
lack  of  money,  by  arrangement  with  the 

[166] 


AN  ATTEMPTED  ESCAPE 

British  consul  to  cover  such  cases,  we  were 
given  a  book  of  coupons  which  could  be 
exchanged  at  a  canteen  in  the  camp  for 
chocolate,  fruit,  tobacco,  and  such  things. 
That  book  came  in  handy,  all  right.  I 
figured  it  out  afterward  that  my  extras  dur- 
ing that  two  weeks  cost  the  British  consul 
mighty  near  fifty  dollars.  I  spent  alto- 
gether 1 20  gruels,  and  a  gruel  works  out 
at  about  thirty-eight  cents. 

All  in  all  the  Dutch  officials  and  people 
gave  us  the  best  of  treatment  and  I  guess 
I  filled  out  physically  a  good  deal  in  that 
two  weeks.  One  of  the  chances  I  got  I 
hadn't  had  before,  was  to  write  all  the 
letters  I  wanted.  A  few  of  those  went 
right  back  into  Germany. 

At  the  end  of  the  quarantine  period  we 
were  sent  down  to  Rotterdam  and  reported 
to  the  British  consul.  Then  for  a  day  or 
two,  until  arrangements  could  be  made  to 
send  us  back  to  England,  nothing  around 
that  old  town  was  too  good  for  us.  Hart 
and  I  were  taken  in  tow  by  an  interned 
petty  officer  who  had  been  forced  into 

[167] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

Holland  during  the  action  at  Bruges  early 
in  the  war.  While  he  was  on  his  honor 
not  to  try  to  escape  this  did  not  prevent 
him  giving  us  a  good  time.  And  we  surely 
had  it. 


[168] 


CHAPTER  VII 

EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

Jack  Evans  resumes: 

FOUR  times  in  all  I  got  away  from  the 
prison  camp.  Three  times  I  was  nabbed, 
the  third  time  within  two  hundred  yards 
of  the  border.  When  they  brought  us 
back  each  time  they  would  tell  us,  with  a 
good  deal  of  glee,  that  no  one  could  get  en- 
tirely out  of  Germany.  Well,  you  see,  we 
believed  in  trying. 

The  first  attempt  was  made  about  the 
middle  of  February,  1917.  Several  of  us 
had  been  planning  for  quite  a  while  how  it 
could  be  done  and  finally  Raesides — you've 
heard  me  speak  of  him  before — and  I  hit 
on  the  scheme  of  digging  through  the  wall 
of  the  barracks.  What  inspired  it,  I  guess, 
was  the  finding  of  a  loose  board  under  one 
of  our  bunks. 

[169] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

We  managed  to  get  a  small  shovel  up 
from  the  mine,  hiding  it  under  our  clothes, 
as  we  came  past  the  guards,  and  started 
to  work.  No  sinecure  that  either,  after 
putting  in  the  regular  day's  stint  down  in 
the  mine.  But  we  kept  at  it,  getting  a 
little  done  at  a  time.  First  the  floor  had 
to  be  pried  up  to  allow  the  passage  of  a 
man's  body.  After  that  came  some  fairly 
easy  digging  till  we  struck  the  stone  wall 
of  the  barrack.  That  ran  down  a  good  piece 
into  the  ground  and  there  was  nothing  to 
do  but  to  hammer  a  hole  though  it.  To 
do  that  with  a  shovel  was  no  pink-tea  job, 
either.  Finally,  however,  we  got  through 
that  and  then  continued  the  tunnel  about 
fifteen  yards  farther  to  carry  us  well  under 
the  three  rows  of  wire  and  the  sentry  beats 
around  the  camp. 

What  did  we  do  with  the  earth?  Most 
of  it  went  up  under  our  bunks.  It  was 
packed  away  there  for  fair.  If  they  had 
come  around  to  inspect  it  they  would  have 
seen  something  was  doing.  But  you  see, 
we  had  to  take  a  chance  in  some  ways. 

[170]' 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

Well,  after  about  three  weeks1  hard  work 
Rae  and  I  got  that  tunnel  ready  to  open  up, 
and  one  night  about  midnight  we  made 
the  break.  The  opening  brought  us  up 
right  beside  the  road  running  round  the 
camp  and  we  got  away  from  that  spot 
without  any  trouble.  We  had  planned  to 
get  across  the  river,  the  Lippe,  the  first 
night  and  to  do  this,  foolishly  attempted  to 
cross  a  railway  bridge  within  a  mile  or  two 
of  the  camp.  We  might  have  known  what 
would  happen.  I  found  out  later  that  it 
didn't  pay  to  take  any  chances  on  such 
things  and  that  it  needed  a  good  deal  of 
experience  to  know  just  what  to  expect 
and  even  then  the  unexpected  came  along 
frequently. 

Anyway,  we  were  nabbed  before  we  even 
got  across  that  bridge  and  marched  back 
to  camp  by  a  guard  with  fixed  bayonets. 
That  experience  was  brief.  And  it  brought 
us  twelve  days  each  in  black  cells  as  a 
punishment. 

We  worried  along  from  then  till  the  end 
of  March  but  in  April,  with  the  feel  of  spring 

[171] 


OUT  OP  HUNLAND 

in  the  air,  made  up  our  minds  to  try  it 
again.  This  time  six  of  us  went  at  it,  dig- 
ging a  tunnel  similarly  but  in  another  part 
of  the  barracks.  Everything  looked  lovely. 
We  laid  the  thing  out  so  as  to  escape  the 
sentries'  regular  beat,  had  a  stock  of  food 
saved  up,  and  everything,  as  we  thought, 
well  planned.  At  the  appointed  time 
Nicholson,  who  was  ahead,  with  three  of 
us  in  the  tunnel  and  two  above  in  the  bunk 
house,  started  to  open  out  the  tunnel.  He 
was  pretty  near  the  top  and  about  ready 
to  break  through  when  he  got  a  big  sur- 
prise. And  so,  I  guess,  did  somebody  else. 
It  appeared  that  for  some  peculiar  reason 
the  beat  of  one  of  the  sentries  had  been 
changed  that  day  and  he  was  following  a 
path,  for  the  first  time  that  night,  which 
led  him  directly  over  that  tunnel.  What 
did  the  beggar  do  but  come  along  just  as 
Nick  was  ready  to  break  out  and  by  his 
weight  broke  through.  He  was  too  sur- 
prised, I  guess,  to  do  anything  at  first.  So 
were  we.  We  knew  the  game  was  up, 
though,  and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

to  beat  it.  So  we  all  scrambled  out  of  the 
hole  and  back  to  bed  and  when  the  sentries 
came  in  with  a  big  hullabaloo  a  little  later 
nobody  knew  anything  about  it. 

We  thought  we  were  going  to  get  off 
without  trouble,  but  the  trouble  came  all 
right  next  morning,  when  they  paraded  all 
the  British  prisoners  and  threatened  that 
they  would  punish  the  whole  bunch  if  the 
guilty  ones  were  not  given  up.  We  knew 
somebody  would  have  to  take  what  was 
coming  but  didn't  see  that  there  was  any 
use  of  all  of  us  being  let  in  for  it,  so  drew 
lots,  when  we  got  by  ourselves,  as  to  who 
would  stand  the  gaff.  As  a  result  Black- 
lock,  Howitt,  and  Toby  Boyd  gave  them- 
selves up  and  were  given  seven  days 
"black." 

Really  we  had  a  lot  of  fun  over  digging 
that  tunnel.  This  time  we  loosened  a  board 
at  one  end  only  and  to  avert  suspicion  ar- 
ranged that  a  man  in  the  bunk  should 
hold  it  up  while  another  chap  worked  below. 
Occasionally  the  man  above  forgot,  let  go, 
and  the  thing  sprang  to  with  a  bang.  Since 

Ii73l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

there  were  sentries  only  a  few  yards  away 
it  is  easy  to  see  what  chances  we  took. 

I  think  we  started  the  "escape  fever*'  at 
that  camp  for  as  far  as  I  know  nobody  had 
ever  tried  it  before.  The  place  was  pro- 
tected and  sentried  so  well  that  it  would 
seem  as  if  there  was  little  chance  of  success 
unless  some  miracle  happened.  Our  fel- 
lows kept  on  trying,  however,  with  results 
as  you  shall  see. 

A  little  while  after  this  second  attempt 
Nicholson  and  another  chap  named  McDon- 
ald had  another  go  at  it.  We  worked  up  a 
sort  of  mock  circus,  got  two  of  the  fellows 
made  up  like  a  camel,  performing  funny 
antics.  Naturally  the  sentries  became  in- 
terested and  while  their  attention  was  drawn 
these  two  climbed  the  fence,  cutting  the 
wire  with  a  pair  of  pliers  they  had  swiped 
from  the  mine,  and  got  well  away. 

They  were  away  for  six  days  and  went 
through  a  lot  of  hardships,  only  to  be  cap- 
tured again  when  about  a  mile  from  the 
border  of  Holland.  That  attempt  helped 
the  rest  of  us,  though,  for  those  fellows  got 

[i74l 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

a  grist  of  information  while  out  on  that 
trip  which  proved  mighty  useful  to  us  af- 
terward. 

A  little  later  a  Yorkshireman  named 
Blacklock,  an  old  chap  who  had  come  to 
Canada  and  spent  a  good  many  years  trap- 
ping and  cowpunching,  a  hard  old  duffer  if 
ever  there  was  one,  made  a  try  at  it  alone. 
Someway  or  other  he  got  hold  of  some 
civilian  clothes  and  coming  up  from  the 
mine  one  night  he  joined  the  group  of  ci- 
vilian laborers  till  they  got  out  of  the  com- 
pound. He  was  away  only  two  days  when 
they  brought  him  back. 

My  third  attempt,  when  Nicholson  and 
I  got  within  two  hundred  yards  of  the 
border,  was  planned  somewhat  similarly. 
By  this  time  we  realized  there  wasn't  much 
use  trying  to  get  away  in  our  prisoners' 
clothes  and  in  consequence  managed  to  have 
a  couple  of  outfits  sent  out  with  our  parcels 
from  England,  and  these  we  were  able  to 
keep  away  from  the  Germans  so  that  the 
distinguishing  stripes  were  not  put  on.  It 
was  mighty  hard  to  keep  these  through 

[i75l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

inspection,  when  all  the  premises  were  gone 
over,  but  by  sewing  them  up  in  our  mat- 
tresses and  again  by  depositing  them  in  a 
garbage  pail  while  the  inspection  was  on, 
we  managed  to  hang  on  to  them.  Our  hats 
were  marked,  too,  so  we  "pinched'*  two 
from  the  civilian  clothes  room  one  time  when 
we  made  a  break  through  there  on  the  way 
up  to  the  mine  head.  We  had  been  able 
to  hold  the  compass  and  map  we  had  used 
the  first  time.  These,  by  the  way,  had  been 
secured  from  civilians  in  exchange  for  soap. 

We  had  planned  the  break  for  the  night 
of  May  26th.  This  was  still  in  1917,  re- 
member. We  put  on  the  civilian  clothes, 
with  our  regular  clothes  over  them,  and 
went  to  the  mine  as  usual.  We  had  been 
trying  to  save  up  some  grub  for  the  trip, 
but  our  parcels  hadn't  been  coming  along 
as  they  should  and  so  all  we  had  were  ten 
Frencfr  biscuits,  which  would  correspond 
to  about  half  a  pound  of  our  Canadian 
sodas.  These  were  carried  in  woollen  belts 
we  had  had  specially  made  for  the  purpose. 

When  the  time  arrived  that  night  to  come 

[176] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

up  out  of  the  mine,  we  waited  around  on 
one  side  till  the  last  cage  and  schemed  it 
so  that  only  three  of  us  were  left  for  that 
load.  The  other  was  Matt  Johnson,  a 
Toronto  boy,  who  I  fancy  is  still  in  the 
prison  camp.  On  the  way  up  Nick  and  I 
tossed  off  our  prisoners*  clothes  and  threw 
them  back  down  the  shaft.  Then  when  we 
reached  the  mine  head  we  simply  walked 
off  as  though  we  were  civilians,  Johnson 
going  his  way  back  to  the  prisoners'  camp. 
Reference  to  the  diagram  opposite  will  per- 
haps'make  our  course  clearer.  Leaving  the 
mine  head  we  had  to  pass  ten  sentries. 
Of  course  we  were  black  then,  being  covered 
with  coal  dust.  The  civilians  were  sup- 
posed to  wash  at  a  special  lavatory  at  the 
end  of  the  building.  We  knew  that  if  we 
got  in  among  them  we  would  be  nabbed  at 
once,  so  we  hung  around  in  one  of  the  cor- 
ners of  the  office  building  till  we  thought 
they  would  be  through  washing  up,  in  the 
meantime  rubbing  our  faces  off  with  a  wet 
rag  we  had  brought  up  for  the  purpose,  and 
then  walked  boldly  over  to  the  time  offices, 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

where  the  civilians  checked  in,  and  passed 
through  with  a  few  of  the  others.  One  or 
two  of  the  civilians  eyed  us  a  little  queerly 
though  nothing  was  said.  We  had  to  take 
a  big  chance  there,  for  we  hadn't  had  any 
opportunity  to  learn  what  the  procedure 
was  and  a  little  slip  might  easily  have  given 
us  away.  However,  we  watched  the  men 
ahead  pretty  carefully  and  when  we  came 
opposite  the  time-clock  grabbed  the  first 
card  which  came  handy,  shoved  it  in  to  be 
punched,  and  walked  off.  There  were  two 
or  three  clerks,  together  with  the  guards 
all  around.  I  suppose  we  weren't  more 
than  two  feet  away  from  two  or  three  of 
them  for  a  minute  or  two. 

Leaving  the  time  offices  we  walked  over  to 
a  lemonade  stand  a  good  deal  frequented 
by  the  miners,  and  as  we  had  planned,  to 
avert  suspicion,  bought  a  couple  of  bottles 
and  drank  them.  We  tried  to  take  it  all 
coolly  but  inwardly  I  know  I  was  quaking 
all  the  time.  Never  had  such  a  sensation 
before  or  since. 

As  we  walked  down  the  road   I  noticed 

[178] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

the  time,  10.15,  on  the  clock-tower  on  the 
building. 

The  surprising  part  of  this,  now  that  I 
think  of  it,  is  that  we  had  the  audacity  to 
do  it  practically  in  broad  daylight.  They 
use  the  daylight-saving  system  over  there, 
you  see,  and  it  was  still  quite  light  at  ten 
o'clock. 

Well,  we  felt  mighty  good.  I  had  hard 
work  to  keep  Nick  down.  He  seemed  to 
be  so  full  of  spirits,  he  could  hardly  keep 
from  running  and  jumping.  Looked  as  if 
he  thought  he  was  out  of  the  country  al- 
ready. As  it  turned  out,  he  was  a  long 
way  from  it. 

We  worked  our  way  outside  the  town 
without  apparently  creating  any  suspicion, 
and  as  soon  as  we  were  reasonably  well 
away,  pulled  out  our  compass  and  set  a 
course  for  the  river  Lippe,  about  four  miles 
away.  I  knew  better  than  to  try  to  cross 
on  any  bridge.  Remembered  that  too  well, 
so  we  made  for  farther  down  the  river. 

We  had  planned  that  if  we  got  across  the 
river  and  got  into  good  cover  the  first  night 

[i79l 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

we  would  be  doing  well  so  when  we  hit  a 
fairly  good-looking  spot  we  stopped  and 
looked  around  for  something  to  build  a 
raft.  Why  didn't  we  swim  it?  We  did, 
practically,  but  you  see  we  had  to  think  of 
our  food.  Remember  that  what  little  we 
had  was  those  French  biscuits  which  swelled 
up  and  were  no  further  use  if  they  got  wet. 
It  was  up  to  us  to  keep  them  dry.  After 
hunting  for  perhaps  half  an  hour  we  found 
some  fence  posts  and  with  some  ropes  we 
had  brought  wrapped  about  our  waists 
from  the  mine,  we  made  up  a  little  raft  to 
carry  our  clothes.  Then  we  stripped  and 
swam  over,  pushing  the  raft  ahead  of  us. 

Gee,  that  was  cold.  The  Lippe  was 
about  as  big  as  the  Humber,  west  of  Toronto, 
say  thirty  yards  wide,  but  it  was  swift  and 
it  was  all  we  could  do  to  make  it.  When 
we  got  across  Nick  climbed  the  bank  to 
see  what  things  looked  like  while  I  stayed 
behind  to  break  up  the  raft  and  get  the 
ropes  off  it. 

And  right  here  I  want  to  tell  you  what 
kind  of  a  chap  Nick  was.  He  hadn't  been 

[180] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE] 

used  to  roughing  it  much.  Spent  most  of 
his  life  in  Winnipeg,  I  think,  where  he  had 
some  job  on  the  Grain  Exchange.  He  was 
more  used  to  tennis  and  such  pink  tea 
games  than  things  like  this.  But  he  cer- 
tainly had  the  stuff  in  him  all  right.  When 
I  climbed  up  over  that  bank  what  do  you 
suppose  I  saw?  There  was  old  Nick,  still 
in  the  costume  Nature  gave  him,  dancing 
around  shivering  and  with  his  eyes  skinned, 
looking  for  trouble.  When  I  asked  him, 
none  too  politely,  I  guess,  what  he  was  doing, 
he  said :  ' '  Did  you  think  I  was  piker  enough 
to  get  dressed  while  you  were  down  there 
in  that  cold  water?"  That  was  Nick, 
playing  up  square  and  taking  his  big  share 
of  trouble  every  time.  Gee,  I  wish  I  could 
have  brought  him  along  with  me,  when  I 
did  get  away. 

Well,  that  first  difficulty  over  we  got  into 
our  clothes  and  started  off,  keeping  our 
eyes  open  for  cover.  It  was  scarce  around 
there  or  we  weren't  so  easily  satisfied  as 
we  got  to  be  later,  for  we  kept  on  moving 
and  didn't  find  anything  which  looked  safe 

[181] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

till  about  4  A.M.,  when  we  ran  across  what 
looked  like  a  good-looking  clump  of  bushes 
in  about  an  acre  of  bush.  Of  course  it 
was  dark  and  we  couldn't  be  sure,  as  be- 
came evident  afterward.  We  didn't  sleep 
any  that  morning.  Excitement  too  great, 
I  suppose.  But  there  was  another  even 
better  reason.  We  soon  learned  that  we 
were  in  the  middle  of  a  swampy  patch 
and  that  patch  must  have  been  a  mosquito 
paradise.  Gee,  how  they  sang  and  how 
they  bit.  And  the  German  mosquito  is 
no  slouch,  I  can  tell  you.  We  wanted  half 
a  dozen  times  to  make  a  break  for  a  better 
spot,  but  as  soon  as  it  got  light  we  found 
that  we  had  quartered  ourselves  only 
about  a  hundred  yards  from  a  farmhouse, 
and  that  somebody  seemed  to  be  moving 
about  all  the  time.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
the  children  from  that  house,  who  by  the 
way  seemed  to  be  mosquito  proof, — ac- 
climatized, I  suppose, — played  for  several 
hours  within  twenty  yards  of  us.  We  started 
to  move  out  several  times  but  remembered 
that  there  was  a  reward  placed  on  every 

[182] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

prisoner's  head  and  that  a  civilian  had  a 
right  to  shoot  at  sight  at  anything  he  sus- 
pected. It  seemed  as  if  all  the  civilians, 
the  farmers  at  least,  were  armed.  Had  to 
be,  I  guess,  to  keep  the  other  fellows  away 
from  their  food  supply. 

When  I  looked  at  Nick  toward  night  I 
had  to  laugh  for  his  eyes  and  cheeks  were 
swollen  up  fearfully.  He  said  I  was  the 
same.  One  of  the  hardest  things  was  that 
we  couldn't  get  water.  It  may  seem  strange 
but  that  was  one  of  the  biggest  difficulties 
we  had  all  along  the  way.  We  scouted 
around  that  house  and  barn  after  it  got 
dark,  but  couldn't  find  anything  wet,  ex- 
cept the  swamp.  Things  are  a  good  deal 
different  at  night  and  in  the  dark,  particu- 
larly in  a  strange  country,  and  when  you 
are  watching  all  the  time  for  something 
to  happen,  than  they  are  under  other  con- 
ditions. 

We  started  about  10.45  that  night,  just 
as  it  was  dusk,  and  because  the  country 
was  very  hard  to  get  across,  travelled  along 
the  road.  Several  times  we  met  people 

[183] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

but  in  most  cases  they  spoke  to  us  and 
when  we  gave  them  back  a  salutation,  they 
did  not  notice  anything  out  of  the  ordinary. 
About  one  in  the  morning  we  crossed  a 
railroad  track.  We  thought  we  had  to  be 
careful  there  and  so  scouted  through  a  lit- 
tle clump  of  bushes.  As  we  climbed  out, 
a  little  carelessly,  I'm  afraid,  and  probably 
with  a  good  deal  of  cracking  of  branches, 
our  eyes  lit  on — a  bunch  of  white  tents  not 
fifty  yards  away.  Two  sentries  were  on 
their  beats  and  how  they  didn't  see  or  hear 
us  is  a  mystery.  It  was  probably  a  small 
detachment,  camped  for  the  night.  We 
weren't  very  long  in  getting  back  into  the 
bush,  I  can  assure  you. 

We  piked  along  till  four  o'clock,  when  we 
ran  into  a  patch  of  low  scrub,  not  big  enough 
to  provide  cover,  and  awfully  hard  to  get 
through.  I  think  we  wandered  around  in 
that  for  about  two  hours,  most  of  it  in 
daylight.  About  six  o'clock  we  heard  a 
shot  or  two,  mighty  close  too,  and  thought 
somebody  must  have  spotted  us.  After  a 
minute  or  two  we  saw  a  chap  in  the  next 

[184] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

field  shooting  crows.  After  a  few  minutes 
we  knew  we  would  have  to  take  what  cover 
we  could  get,  so  stowed  ourselves  away  as 
best  we  could  there.  By  that  time  we  were 
pretty  tired  so  we  went  off  to  sleep  till 
about  noon.  Our  lunch  consisted  of  part 
of  a  biscuit  and  we  were  so  thirsty — we 
hadn't  been  able  to  get  any  water  yet — 
that  it  was  almost  out  of  the  question  to  get 
it  down.  Our  tongues  were  fairly  wagging. 

About  three-thirty  it  began  to  rain  like 
the  dickens.  In  a  way  this  was  tough. 
In  another  we  were  glad.  As  those  drops 
came  down  we  held  up  our  felt  hats  and 
got  our  mouths  moistened.  Have  you  ever 
wanted  a  drink  badly  and  were  only  able 
to  tantalize  yourself  like  that? 

Ever  drink  from  a  puddle?  Muddy  ones 
and  all?  We  did  that  night  for  when  we 
started  —  about  10.30  —  we  still  wanted 
water  and  that  was  the  safest  and  easiest 
way  to  get  it.  And  that  muddy  stuff 
helped  us  so  that  we  were  able  to  travel 
that  night,  so  near  as  we  could  estimate, 
about  twelve  or  thirteen  miles. 

[185] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

That  night  also  we  had  trouble  in  finding 
cover,  and  finally  got  shelter  in  a  small  clump 
of  bushes.  The  spot  was  pretty  well  ex- 
posed, too,  so  we  kept  on  the  lookout  and 
didn't  dare  to  think  of  going  to  sleep.  Two 
or  three  times  that  day,  children  passed 
within  fifteen  feet  and  we  thought  they  were 
going  to  walk  right  in  on  us,  but  something 
seemed  to  steer  them  away.  The  day  was 
memorable  for  another  feature.  We  ran 
out  of  tobacco  and  from  that  time  on  had 
to  smoke  old  leaves. 

The  next  night  was  one  to  remember, 
also,  but  for  a  different  reason.  We  started 
out  before  it  got  very  dark,  at  about  10.45, 
and  just  got  nicely  out  of  the  bush,  when 
we  unexpectedly  ran  into  two  girls,  farmers* 
daughters,  probably.  By  this  time  we  were 
not  objects  of  beauty  by  any  means  for  of 
course  we  had  had  no  opportunity  to  wash 
or  shave  and  looked  pretty  cadaverous,  I 
guess,  in  addition.  They  seemed  to  know 
what  we  were,  for  they  ran  away  as  hard 
as  they  could  leg  it  and  apparently  lost  no 
time  in  imparting  the  information,  for  the 

F  i86l 


;  EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

next  thing  we  knew  we  heard  a  bunch  of 
men,  a  posse,  on  our  track. 

Imagine  what  that  felt  like,  being  chased 
by  men  who  knew  the  country  like  a  book 
while  we  were  staggering  along  through 
the  bush,  not  knowing  what  we  would  run 
into  or  where  we  would  come  out.  At  one 
time  we  judged  they  were  within  three  hun- 
dred yards  of  us.  We  could  hear  them 
calling  to  one  another  and  could  tell  that 
they  thought  they  had  us  right  in  their 
clutches.  When  they  got  near  like  this, 
though,  we  would  take  a  spurt  ahead  again. 
This  kept  on  for  about  two  hours  and  finally 
they  seemed  to  give  up  in  disgust.  We 
travelled  along  until  daylight  but  were 
nearly  all  in. 

The  next  night  a  somewhat  similar  expe- 
rience followed.  We  spent  the  day  in  poor 
cover  near  the  road  and  two  or  three  times 
during  the  day  children  passed  just  a  few 
feet  from  us,  evidently  going  to  and  from 
school.  We  were  in  pretty  bad  shape  for 
water  but  finally  got  some  out  of  a  lit- 
tle creek  in  the  neighborhood.  And  then, 

[  187  1 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

shortly  after  we  started  out,  at  night, 
piking  along  the  road  as  well  as  we  could, 
we  ran  plump  into  a  man  on  a  bicycle,  who 
was  riding  along  so  quietly  in  the  darkness 
we  did  not  hear  him.  Without  a  doubt 
he  knew  what  we  were  but  he  was  appar- 
ently scared  of  us,  for  after  taking  a  good 
look,  he  jumped  on  his  wheel  and  pedalled 
off  down  the  road  at  a  great  rate.  And  it 
wasn't  long  till  another  posse  was  at  our 
heels. 

By  this  time  we  thought  we  had  enough 
of  travelling  on  the  road,  so  struck  across 
the  fields,  evading  the  posse,  who  appar- 
ently went  right  along  the  road  after  us. 
It  was  impossible  to  see  the  compass,  which 
was  not  illuminated,  so  we  steered  our 
course  as  best  we  could  by  the  north  star. 
Gee,  we  were  fagged  that  night.  But  so 
near  as  we  could  figure  from  landmarks  and 
the  map  we  seemed  to  be  about  ten  kilos 
— seven  or  eight  miles — from  the  frontier. 
We  looked  hard  for  cover  that  morning, 
till  we  were  too  exhausted  to  look  further 
and  finally  got  into  a  little  group  of  trees 

[188] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

near  a  road.  We  saw  as  soon  as  it  got  light 
that  this  spot  would  never  do,  for  the  road 
appeared  to  be  used  a  good  deal  and  there 
was  no  shelter  whatever,  beyond  the  mere 
tree  trunks.  So  we  made  for  a  little  creek 
bank  a  few  feet  away  and  dug  in  halfway 
under  the  bank,  hoping  to  make  a  hole  big 
enough  to  shelter  us.  It  was  stiff  digging 
in  that  heavy  clay  with  our  hands,  however, 
and  finally  we  gave  it  up  and  decided  to  use 
a  few  old  leaves  to  strew  over  us  if  it  seemed 
necessary.  Across  from  us  was  an  open 
field  and  we  had  no  sooner  gotten  settled 
down  nicely  than  two  women  came  out  and 
began  to  hoe  turnips.  They  worked  there 
steadily  all  day,  at  times  not  more  than  a 
hundred  yards  from  us,  and  all  the  time 
people,  wagons,  and  children  were  passing 
up  and  down  that  road,  not  more  than 
fifty  feet  away  on  the  other  side.  About 
seven  P.M.,  the  women  went  in  and  we  sat 
up  for  relief,  for  by  that  time,  after  lying 
as  nearly  motionless  as  possible  all  day,  we 
were  rather  cramped,  as  you  can  imagine. 
We  had  just  begun  to  stretch  out  when  we 

[189] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

heard  someone  coming  through  the  patch 
of  trees  and  had  to  duck  and  crawl  back 
into  the  hole  again.  It  was  well  we  did. 
A  minute  later  two  German  soldiers,  fully 
armed,  and  probably  belonging  to  a  local 
patrol,  came  along  the  bank  and  crossed 
the  creek  within  ten  feet  of  us.  As  if  that 
wasn't  enough  they  stopped  just  opposite 
where  we  were  lying  and  began  to  talk. 
We  hadn't  had  time  to  get  any  leaves  over 
us  and  were  practically  in  plain  sight.  Why 
they  didn't  see  us  is  a  wonder.  We  lay 
like  statues,  though,  and  as  anyone  who 
has  been  out  in  No  Man's  Land  knows,  it's 
sometimes  mighty  hard  to  spot  anything 
when  it  doesn't  move.  Whether  we  looked 
like  logs  or  something  similar,  I  don't  know. 
You  see,  we  had  a  good  deal  of  mud  and 
clay  over  us.  Anyway,  after  what  seemed 
a  long  time  those  two  chaps  toddled  away. 
We  thought  at  the  time  the  women  must 
have  seen  us  and  sent  the  patrol  out  after 
us.  When  we  heard  them  talk,  though,  and, 
with  a  good  deal  of  relief,  saw  them  cut 
across  the  fields,  we  guessed  that  they  had 

[190] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

just  happened  that  way.  The  direction 
they  took  would  bring  them,  so  near  as  we 
could  reckon  by  the  map,  into  a  lit.tle  town 
named  Weseke  and  they  were  probably 
taking  a  short  cut  to  get  back  to  their 
quarters. 

That  night  was  to  be  the  fated  one.  We 
got  off  early,  planning  to  hit  the  border 
about  two  A.M.,  if  possible,  and  followed 
the  road  for  a  while  so  as  not  to  lose  our 
course.  At  first  we  made  good  time,  though 
we  were  so  weary  and  hungry  we  could 
scarcely  walk  straight.  Then  we  began  to 
meet  people  on  the  road,  and  besides  keep- 
ing our  eyes  open,  had  to  flop  into  the 
ditch  when  anyone  came  along.  We  got 
to  Weseke  somewhere  about  midnight,  and 
knew  we  were  then  only  about  four  miles 
and  a  half  from  Holland.  Liberty  seemed 
mighty  near  at  hand.  However,  from  here 
on,  we  knew  we  should  have  to  travel  a 
good  deal  by  the  main  road  since  the  coun- 
try was  full  of  very  heavy  swamps  which 
it  would  have  been  impossible  for  us  to  get 
through  in  our  weakened  condition.  We 

[191] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

knew  there  were  likely  to  be  patrols  on  this 
road  and  so  were  extra  careful.  Two  or 
three  times  patrols  on  bicycles  did  pass  us, 
going  both  ways.  We  were  fortunate  enough 
to  see  them  and  to  flop  into  the  ditch  each 
time.  I  suppose  it  was  risky  travelling 
like  that  but  by  this  time  we  had  grown 
so  used  to  narrow  escapes  we  didn't  think 
much  of  them,  and  besides  we  had  gotten 
along  so  well  and  had  come  through  so 
many  narrow  squeaks  I  guess  we  thought 
our  good  fortune  was  sure  to  continue.  So 
we  jogged  along,  the  best  way  we  could. 
We  had  eaten  the  last  few  crumbs  of  our 
biscuits  that  morning  and  by  this  time  were 
past  being  hungry.  It  was  about  all  we 
could  do  to  stagger.  And  the  thought  of 
gaining  our  freedom  shortly  had  a  good 
deal  to  do  with  our  getting  along  at  all. 
I  was  bad  enough.  But  poor  Nick  was  a 
good  deal  worse  and  kept  up  by  sheer  nerve. 
Finally,  after  keeping  our  eyes  and  ears 
skinned,  we  came  to  a  signpost,  which  the 
map  covering  that  section  of  the  road 
showed  to  be  just  on  the  border.  One 

[192] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

arm  pointed  northwest,  into  Holland,  the 
other  back  into  Germany,  and  this  latter 
arm  bore  words  to  the  effect,  so  near  as  we 
could  read  them  in  the  dark,  that  the  near- 
est German  town  was  two  and  a  half  miles 
back.  Things  were  pretty  quiet  around 
there  just  then  and  I  said  to  Nick:  "Old 
boy,  I  believe  we're  over." 

"I  don't  know,  Jack,"  he  said.  "I'm 
not  so  sure."  I  was  willing  to  bet  anything 
but  on  Nick's  advice  we  went  along  cau- 
tiously. As  we  passed  down  the  road  we 
saw  numerous  clumps  of  bushes  and  just 
when  I  began  to  feel  absolutely  sure  and 
was  about  ready  to  let  out  a  big  whoop, 
suddenly  three  sentries  with  fixed  bayonets 
stepped  out  from  behind  the  bushes,  not  three 
yards  away  from  us. 

We  were  nabbed  again. 

We  tried  to  make  a  break  for  it,  but 
were  so  surprised  and  so  weak  that  it  was 
no  use.  Before  we  could  move  those  fel- 
lows were  around  us  with  the  tips  of  their 
bayonets  against  our  skin  and  yelling: 
"Zuruck"  (Go  back). 


13 


193 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

Say!  You  can't  imagine  what  I  felt 
like  then.  Nobody  could  who  hadn't  been 
through  it.  My  heart  dropped  to  my  toes 
like  a  hunk  of  lead  and  I  nearly  dropped 
myself,  with  it.  We  knew  we  were  near 
the  border  but  not  how  near. 

In  a  moment  the  chap  who  seemed  to  be 
in  charge  looked  us  up  and  down  and  asked 
for  our  passports.  When  we  pretended 
not  to  be  able  to  understand  him,  he  asked 
what  we  were.  We  said  we  were  Belgian 
civilians  taking  a  little  night  trip  into  Hol- 
land for  some  grub.  We  knew  that  was 
frequently  done  and  thought  if  we  could 
get  away  with  that  we  would  get  off  easier. 
Then  we  asked  how  far  it  was  to  the  fron- 
tier. One  of  them  said,  "Ten  kilos,"  an- 
other made  it  five.  The  third  said,  "Not 
many." 

We  had  learned  from  the  civilians  in  the 
mines  that  no  German  civilian  was  allowed 
within  three  hundred  yards  of  the  border 
without  a  passport. 

The  corporal  looked  us  over  again,  shoved 
a  searchlight  in  our  faces,  and  said:  " Nein. 

[194] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

Sie  sind  Engldnder  schwein."  We  knew 
then  that  he  had  us  and  that  we  might  as 
well  admit  it,  so  said:  "  Jah." 

And  then  I  looked  around  at  old  Nick 
and  wondered  if  he  felt  as  badly  about  it 
as  I  did.  Good  old  Nick.  I'd  give  every- 
thing I've  got  if  he  were  out  of  it  with  me, 
now. 

The  Germans  went  through  us,  taking 
our  map  and  compass,  and  marched  us  off, 
insisting  that  we  keep  our  hands  in  our 
pockets.  When  we  got  back  to  their  billet 
they  asked  us  how  long  we  had  been  without 
food.  I  asked  in  reply  if  there  was  any 
chance  of  getting  any  bread,  but  was  told 
they  had  no  bread,  that  we  would  be  given 
some  food  after  our  trial.  About  half- 
past  three  o'clock  an  under-officer  came 
along  and  the  Germans  who  had  nabbed  us 
shouted  :11A  ditung  I ' '  (Attention) .  I  was  so 
down  in  the  mouth  and  so  tired  I  wouldn't 
have  sprung  to  attention  for  King  George 
just  then,  so  didn't  obey.  This  chap 
quizzed  us  for  awhile.  "Ha,"  he  said. 
"Running  away,  were  you?  Might  as  well 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

have  saved  yourselves  the  trouble.  No 
one  is  able  to  get  out  of  Germany/' 

It  looked  to  us  just  then  as  if  he  were 
pretty  nearly  right. 

About  nine  next  morning  we  were 
marched  into  Sudlohn,  the  nearest  town, 
and  put  through  another  quiz.  When  they 
asked  what  camp  we  had  escaped  from, 
we  told  them  Minister.  Minister  is  only 
about  twenty-five  miles  from  the  border 
and  would  be  easy  to  get  away  from.  And 
just  here  we  got  another  sample  of  German 
efficiency.  The  officer  who  examined  us, 
and  who,  by  the  way,  spoke  English,  said 
when  we  told  him  that:  "What  do  you 

think  I  am?  A  d n  fool?  You  men 

escaped  from  Auguste  Victoria  gruber  in 
Westphalia.  You,"  looking  at  me,  "are 
Evans.  And  you,"  turning  to  Nick, 
"are  Nicholson.  Why,"  he  went  on  to 
explain,  "we  have  records  of  you  fellows 
all  along  the  border.  We  know  all  about 
you  and  just  where  you've  been." 

When  he  asked  how  we  got  our  civilian 
clothes  we  told  him  we  stole  them  and  he 

[196] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

seemed  to  think  it  was  a  great  joke.  He 
said :  "You  got  away  from  the  camp  nicely. 
But  you  nor  anyone  else  cannot  finally 
escape  from  Germany.  It's  impossible. 
Why,"  he  commented,  "there  are  almost 
as  many  sentries  on  the  frontier  as  there  are 
soldiers  on  the  Western  front  and  even  the 
whole  British  army  can't  get  through  there." 

When  he  went  on  a  little  farther  we  got 
some  information  which  made  us  feel  worse 
than  ever,  if  that  was  possible.  After  he 
asked  us  all  he  wanted  to,  he  turned  to  one 
of  the  guards  and  asked:  "Where  did  you 
capture  these  men?" 

"At  my  post,"  was  the  reply,  in  German 
of  course.  "  It  is  210  meters  from  the  fron- 
tier. He  was  ten  meters  past  my  post." 

Do  you  see  it?  We  had  been  within  two 
hundred  yards  of  the  Holland  border  when 
they  nabbed  us! 

If  we  had  only  known. 

We  thought  another  chance  was  coming 
shortly,  for  after  they  gave  us  a  bowl  of 
soup — better  than  usual,  by  the  way — we 

[  197  ] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

were  lodged  in  the  detention  cells  in  Sud- 
lohn,  and  after  a  sleep  got  some  of  our 
spirits  back.  In  that  cell  we  found  part  of 
an  old  spoon  and  saw  that  by  working  away 
with  the  screws  in  the  hinges  of  the  door 
the  lock  could  be  taken  off.  We  were 
working  away  at  this  and  had  the  screws 
nearly  all  loosened  when  a  Frenchman  was 
shoved  in  the  same  cell. 

This  chap  had  rather  an  interesting  story. 
He  had  escaped  with  three  others  from  a 
camp  two  hundred  miles  from  the  border 
and  had  been  on  the  road  twenty-one  days. 
He  had  had  a  good  supply  of  food  with  him 
however, — somehow  those  Frenchmen  al- 
ways seemed  to  be  able  to  get  more  than 
we  did, — and  wasn't  feeling  so  badly.  The 
three  who  had  escaped  with  him  had  been 
captured  but  he  had  gotten  away  practi- 
cally out  of  the  hands  of  the  guards, 'only 
to  be  taken  again,  not  far  from  where  we 
had  been  nabbed.  The  examination  they 
had  given  him  had  not  been  so  thorough  as 
they  had  put  us  through  for  he  still  had  a 
supply  of  biscuits  and  chocolate  and  had 

[198] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

been  able  to  hang  on   to  his  map   and 
compass. 

Together  we  had  quite  a  time,  though 
it  was  rather  close,  as  you  may  imagine,  in 
that  small  cell.  Anyhow,  we  schemed  to 
finish  loosening  up  those  screws  and  to 
make  another  break  for  it  that  night.  The 
screws  came  loose  all  right  after  a  good 
deal  of  struggling,  and  everything  was 
ready,  but  at  seven  o'clock  the  guards 
came  round,  hauled  Nick  and  I  out,  landed 
us  on  a  train,  and  shipped  us  back  on  a  four- 
hour  ride  to  Auguste  Victoria  camp. 

When  we  got  off  the  train  and  saw  where 
we  were  we  felt  like — well  I'll  leave  it  to 
you  to  imagine. 

It  was  rather  funny,  though,  to  be  brought 
in  through  the  very  time  office  we  had 
walked  out  from  a  few  days  before  and 
to  hear  the  officials  commenting  on  our 
escape.  By  this  time  they  had  sized  up 
pretty  well  how  it  had  been  done. 

Beyond  that  bowl  of  soup  we  were  given 
no  nourishment,  and  when,  on  arrival  at 
the  camp,  we  were  shot  into  the  clink — black 

[  199  ] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

cells — and  I  knew  we  were  in  for  a  course 
of  reduced  rations  which  came  with  that 
treatment,  I  was  about  all  in  again.  As 
it  turned  out,  though,  it  wasn't  as  bad  as 
usual  that  time.  The  first  day,  when  I  was 
out  for  water,  I  managed  to  slip  through 
the  fence  into  the  English  compound  a 
note  addressed  to  Raesides  asking  him  to 
scheme  some  way  to  get  some  food  to  us. 
The  cells  we  were  in  that  time  were  next  to 
the  compound.  Rae  found  out  somehow  or 
other  which  one  I  was  in  and  by  working  for 
a  few  minutes  at  a  time  for  a  night  or  two 
he  managed  to  work  the  cement  away 
around  the  corner  of  a  small  brick  above 
my  head.  The  hole  wasn't  big  enough  to 
put  any  solid  through  and,  you  see,  he 
didn't  dare  to  enlarge  it,  but  he  managed 
to  make  a  funnel  out  of  a  bit  of  tin  and 
through  that  poured  bits  of  bully  beef, 
biscuits,  and  even  tea,  which  I  caught  in 
my  cap.  Say,  that  stuff  tasted  great.  I 
found  after  a  little  that  the  latch  on  my 
cell  was  loose  and  could  be  easily  opened, 
and  at  night,  after  the  guards  had  made 

[  200  ] 


EFFORTS  TO  ESCAPE 

their  rounds,  I  used  to  get  out,  open  up 
Nick's  cell,  which  was  not  far  away  and 
we  would  have  great  feeds  together.  Rae 
kept  on  bringing  us  that  stuff  every  night. 
Fortunately  there  were  a  bunch  of  parcels 
coming  in  just  then  and  they  had  lots  to 
spare.  I'll  bet  those  guards  wondered  why 
in  the  mischief  Nick  and  I  were  so  chirky. 

We  had  seven  days  of  that  and  then  one 
day  they  came  along  and  marched  us  back 
to  the  mine  head  and  ordered  us  to  show 
how  we  had  gotten  away.  We  didn't  want 
to  tell  them,  naturally,  and  besides  we  had 
a  grudge  against  a  big  Prussian  who  had 
used  us  rottenly  for  a  long  while  and  who 
had  a  temper  like  a  dynamo,  so  when  they 
asked  us  who  helped  us,  we  pointed  to  this 
big  chap.  What  they  did  to  him  we  never 
knew  but  when  we  were  sent  back  imme- 
diately for  another  ten  days  "black"  who 
should  be  put  in  charge  of  the  clink  but 
the  same  big  Prussian.  Our  stay  was  very 
comfortable,  of  course. 

Shortly  after  we  got  out  and  were  put 
back  to  work  McDonald  and  O'Brien,  two 

[201  ] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

others  of  our  chaps,  got  away  from  the  coke 
ovens  and  got  clean  out,  crossing  the  border 
at  about  the  same  spot  we  nearly  did.  You 
see,  we  knew  that  it  was  possible  to  get 
out  of  Germany.  For  this,  however,  the 
British  prisoners  remaining  were  strafed  for 
fourteen  days,  given  detention  and  besides 
made  to  stand  at  "Attention"  in  the  hot 
sun. 


[202] 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   SUCCESSFUL  ATTEMPT 

Jack  continues  : 

AFTER  the  McDonald-O'Brien  escape, 
things  tightened  up  a  good  deal  around  the 
camp.  More  sentries  were  put  on  and  these 
were  watched  more  carefully  than  formerly. 
For  quite  a  while  nobody  thought  it  was 
worth  while  trying  to  get  away.  And  one 
day  we  heard  one  of  the  captains  boasting 
that  no  one  would  get  out  of  that  camp 
again. 

From  June  till  September  things  kept 
getting  worse.  The  food  was  skimpier,  and 
had  it  not  been  for  our  parcels  we  would 
have  been  dead  a  dozen  times  over.  The 
Russians,  particularly,  suffered  dreadfully 
since  they  had  no  parcels  coming  regularly 
and  it  was  a  frequent  thing  to  see  two  or 

[  203] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

three  of  them  fall  down  in  a  faint  in  a 
morning.  They  were  carried  out  and  we 
were  told  were  sent  to  a  hospital.  Since 
we  nor  their  friends  never  saw  them  again 
we  did  not  know  what  really  became  of 
them.  Stories  went  round  that  there  was 
not  enough  food  in  the  German  hospitals 
to  bring  these  fellows  back  to  strength. 

Then,  when  things  were  at  their  worst, 
Nick  and  I  thought  it  was  about  time  to 
try  it  again.  We  knew  it  would  be  no  use 
to  try  any  of  the  old  tricks,  that  they  would 
be  watching  for  us,  and  so  started  on  a  new 
game.  When  we  were  taken  to  the  mine 
in  the  morning  and  brought  up  at  night,  we 
prisoners  were  left  by  ourselves  in  a  wash- 
room near  the  mine  offices,  part  of  which 
was  used  by  the  German  civilians,  part  by 
the  prisoners  who  worked  in  the  mine. 
We  had  often  thought  of  the  possibilities 
of  getting  out  of  here  but  since  it  was  a  solid 
stone  building  and  the  windows  were  all 
heavily  barred  with  iron  bars  an  inch  in 
diameter  and  about  eight  inches  apart,  the 
prospects  did  not  seem  very  bright.  Finally, 

[204] 


THE  SUCCESSFUL  ATTEMPT 

however,  it  occurred  to  us  to  try  the  mortar 
around  those  bars.  It  was  hard,  but  softer 
than  I  had  expected,  and  we  saw  that  if  we 
were  able  to  keep  at  it  and  were  not  de- 
tected there  was  a  good  chance  of  getting 
one  of  those  bars  loose.  Just  about  that 
time  they  separated  Nick  and  I,  putting  us 
on  different  shifts,  but  we  kept  on  nibbling 
around  the  end  of  that  bar  just  the  same. 

It  may  sound  easy,  but  we  were  just 
four  weeks,  working  regularly  every  day, 
seven  days  a  week,  getting  that  bar  loose. 
Of  course  we  only  could  worry  with  it  for 
from  one  to  five  minutes  a  day.  I  used  to 
stand  over  at  that  window,  while  the  other 
fellows  were  washing,  and  make  out  that 
I  liked  to  look  out  of  the  window  and  sing, 
for  all  the  time  I  was  scraping  away  at  it 
I  was  humming  "Tipperary"  or  something 
like  that  to  hide  the  noise.  You  see,  the 
windows  in  the  civilian  room  were  only  a 
few  feet  away.  Fortunately  there  were 
some  heavy  vines  growing  up  over  that 
window — one  of  the  reasons  we  chose  it — 
which  hid  us  and  the  hole  from  view  out- 


205 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

side.  But  to  keep  it  as  far  as  possible 
from  being  discovered  we  used  to  carefully 
fill  up  the  hole  around  the  bar  each  time 
just  before  we  left  it. 

When  we  got  that  hole  worked  in  about 
six  inches,  I  bent  the  wire  into  the  shape  of 
a  hook  to  try  for  the  end  of  the  iron,  but 
had  to  go  fully  two  inches  farther  before  I 
struck  it.  That  meant  that  the  bar  was 
buried  eight  inches  in  the  masonry.  We 
tried  the  other  end  for  a  while  but  the 
mortar  there  seemed  to  be  a  good  deal 
harder  and  progress  was  slower,  so  we  de- 
cided to  put  the  one  hole  in  sixteen  inches 
so  that  the  bar  could  be  slipped  out.  Even 
when  we  got  that  done  it  took  another 
week  to  get  that  bar  loose  enough  so  that 
it  could  be  moved.  I  had  hoped  that  Nick 
and  I  could  make  a  go  of  it  together,  as  we 
had  done  before,  but  after  a  while  we  de- 
cided that  that  wouldn't  do,  that  we  were 
too  closely  watched  and  that  if  we  kept  at 
it  together  they  would  suspect  something. 
So  I  took  on  as  a  pal  "Whitey"  Masters, 
a  Toronto  boy  who  was  in  the  same  bat- 

[206] 


THE  SUCCESSFUL  ATTEMPT 

talion  and  who  had  been  around  with  us 
a  good  deal. 

Just  previous  to  this  we  had  gotten  a 
good  supply  of  soap  in  our  boxes  from  home 
and  with  some  of  this  we  bribed  a  civilian 
to  give  us  a  map  and  a  small  electric  flash- 
light very  similar  to  those  the  kids  play 
with  here.  We  tried  to  get  a  compass  but 
couldn't  manage  it  and  I  framed  a  sort 
of  one  up  out  of  an  old  compass  case  and 
part  of  a  wrist  watch.  We  had  saved  up 
what  food  we  could  from  the  parcels  and 
had  been  able  to  bring  up  a  little  rope  from 
the  mine.  I  knew  from  the  last  time  the 
value  of  rope.  Then,  on  the  night  of  Sep- 
tember 1 8th,  while  the  other  fellows  were 
washing,  we  slid  that  bar  out  of  place,  slid 
through  the  window,  and  then  slid  it  back 
again.  I  was  thinking  of  old  Nick,  you 
see,  and  hoping  he  could  do  the  same  trick. 
Just  outside  the  window  was  a  wire  fence 
and  outside  this  again  was  a  spiked  fence. 
We  managed  to  get  through  these,  however, 
although  sentries  were  supposed  to  be  pass- 
ing all  the  time.  As  a  matter  of  fact  one 

[207] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

came  around  the  corner  just  when  we  hopped 
off  the  last  fence  and  we  had  just  time  to 
hop  behind  a  clump  of  bushes  till  he  went 
by,  within  fifteen  feet  of  us.  At  the  same 
time  two  well-lit  street  cars  went  by  along 
the  main  road  to  Haltern,  which  ran  just 
beside  the  camp.  We  were  almost  in  plain 
sight  of  the  people  in  those  cars  and  yet 
we  didn't  dare  move  lest  the  noise  should 
disturb  that  sentry.  Oh,  those  were  some 
anxious  minutes,  all  right. 

On  my  trips  to  the  trials  I  had  tried  to 
size  up  the  roads  and  tried  to  make  for  one 
now  which  I  thought  would  get  us  to  the 
river  and  across  easily.  I  must  have  gotten 
out  of  the  way,  though,  for  shortly  we  hit 
a  swamp  and  got  in  it  up  to  our  necks.  It 
was  awful,  floundering  around  there  in 
the  dark,  up  to  our  necks  in  some  places, 
and  not  knowing  when  or  where  we  were 
coming  out.  Of  course  we  didn't  dare  to 
flash  the  lamp  so  near  the  camp.  And  we 
were  in  that  slough  about  two  hours. 

Finally  we  wallowed  out  and  got  over 
to  the  river.  We  intended  to  work  the 

[208! 


THE  SUCCESSFUL  ATTEMPT 

raft  game  as  we  had  done  the  time  before, 
but  after  looking  around  for  material  for 
a  long  while  we  had  to  give  it  up  to  get 
cover.  The  next  night,  after  working  our 
way  about  ten  miles  up  looking  for  some- 
thing to  cross  on  we  got  hold  of  a  scow 
which  we  rowed  across  in  good  style.  We 
got  on  five  or  six  miles  farther  and  then, 
while  trying  to  get  some  water  at  a  farm- 
house, apparently  aroused  some  dogs  and 
had  to  run  for  it.  No  sooner  had  we  got- 
ten away  from  them  than  we  struck  the 
river  again.  Apparently  it  had  made  a  big 
bend  in  the  intervening  country  which  was 
not  shown  on  our  map.  This  time  it  was 
wider  and  not  so  deep  and  we  were  able  to 
wade  it. 

The  next  day  we  had  splendid  cover  in 
a  big  piece  of  bush  and  got  some  sleep.  So 
when  we  started  out  that  night  we  were  a 
good  deal  fresher.  My  feet  bothered  me 
considerably  though,  and  it  was  no  joke  to 
pike  along  over  that  unfamiliar  country. 
About  11.30  we  passed  through  Kleine- 
reichen,  the  place  where  Fred  saw  the 

'4  [  209  ] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

tourists  at  the  hotel.  We  saw  the  hotel 
all  right  but  no  tourists.  There  was  a 
policeman  on  the  other  side  of  the  street 
who  eyed  us  pretty  closely  and  we  were 
anxious  to  get  out  of  his  inspection  as  soon 
as  possible.  You  see  this  time  we  hadn't 
been  able  to  get  any  civilian  clothes  and 
anyone  who  saw  us  in  anything  like  fair 
light  would  have  spotted  us  in  a  moment. 
We  went  on  through  Grossereichen  but 
after  our  experience  with  the  policeman 
worked  through  the  outskirts  here.  It 
rained  all  that  night  and  toward  morning 
we  got  so  tired  and  discouraged  we  couldn't 
keep  it  up  any  longer,  so  looked  for  what 
shelter  we  could  and  finally  got  tucked 
away  in  a  bunch  of  firs  close  to  the  village 
of  Randolph. 

By  this  time  our  food  was  running  low 
and  next  night,  wet,  hungry,  and  cold,  we 
started  out  as  soon  as  practicable  to  try 
to  get  warmed  up  by  walking.  Shortly 
afterward  we  got  into  a  potato  patch  and 
were  trying  to  dig  out  some  of  the  gubers 
when  we  were  fired  on  by  some  farmers. 

[210] 


THE  SUCCESSFUL  ATTEMPT 

It  seemed  not  more  than  fifty  feet  away. 
That  will  illustrate  how  bad  things  were 
in  Germany,  when  they  had  to  guard  their 
potato  patches.  We  had  learned  that  since 
the  war,  the  farmers  had  been  given  per- 
mission to  shoot  anyone  in  their  crops  on 
sight.  Naturally,  we  got  away  from  that 
locality  as  soon  as  possible  and  kept  on  till 
early  morning,  trying  to  get  some  nourish- 
ment out  of  three  or  four  raw  potatoes. 
When  we  began  to  look  for  cover  and  the 
first  light  came  we  found  ourselves  in  a 
sort  of  wilderness,  the  only  stuff  in  sight 
being  some  low  scrub.  We  got  down  in 
this  and  made  the  best  of  it,  but  got  a  scare 
during  the  day  for  a  couple  of  chaps  came 
along  hunting.  They  passed  within  a  hun- 
dred yards  of  us  and  shot  at  something 
nearer  for  we  heard  the  bullets  skip  through 
the  brush  just  a  few  feet  away.  Comfort- 
ing, wasn't  it? 

The  next  night  we  were  almost  too  fagged 
to  go  any  farther  but  started  off  as  soon 
as  it  got  dark  and  kept  going  till  about 
one-thirty  when  we  had  to  lie  down  to  rest 

[211] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

for  a  while.  Unfortunately  we  chose  a 
spot  just  beside  the  road.  Masters  had 
just  gotten  off  to  sleep  and  I  guess  I  was 
pretty  well  on  the  way,  too,  when  a  dog  ran 
up  to  us  and  started  to  bark.  In  a  moment 
I  sighted  a  flashlight  coming  along  the 
road  at  a  good  rate.  For  a  few  minutes 
at  least  we  forgot  we  were  tired.  By  the 
time  I  got  Masters  awake  that  dog  was  at 
us  and  the  light  was  mighty  close.  We 
sprinted  up  the  road,  however,  and  after 
a  little  got  away,  though  whoever  the  chap 
with  the  light  was,  he  did  his  best,  for  he 
fired  twice,  one  of  the  bullets  zipping  past 
the  side  of  my  head. 

That  was  good  for  the  nerves,  all  right. 

Then  a  little  farther  along  we  got  into 
the  outskirts  of  a  little  town  before  we  knew 
it  and  got  mixed  up  in  the  wire  fences  in 
some  of  the  back  yards.  It  was  beastly 
dark,  and  awfully  hard  to  get  around. 
Gosh,  how  those  fences  did  creak.  We 
were  afraid  of  dogs  but  there  didn't  seem 
to  be  a  dog  left  in  that  town.  They'd  gone 
the  way  of  most  of  the  others,  I  guess. 

[212] 


THE  SUCCESSFUL  ATTEMPT 

We  got  into  pretty  good  cover  that  day 
and  were  fairly  comfortable  except  that  we 
had  nothing  to  eat  and  mighty  little  to 
drink.  You  see,  all  this  was  in  a  thickly 
settled  country  and  we  didn't  dare  to  do 
much  scouting  for  either  food  or  water  for 
fear  we  would  run  into  something  worse 
than  hunger  or  thirst.  Heaven  knows  we 
had  had  enough  of  that  to  be  able  to  put 
up  with  both  for  a  bit  when  the  chances  of 
getting  away  from  it  all  seemed  so  good. 

The  next  night  we  knew  we  were  getting 
pretty  near  the  border  but  along  about 
one  o'clock  we  hit  a  railroad  that  wasn't 
marked  on  the  map,  or  hit  it  before  we  ex- 
pected to,  and  it  threw  us  out  of  reckoning. 
While  we  were  standing  there  trying  to  figure 
it  out  a  brightly  lighted  passenger  train 
went  by.  There  was  no  help  for  it  though. 
We  were  lost.  By  this  time  I  was  stag- 
gering and  while  my  mind  seemed  all  right 
I  wouldn't  wonder  if  it  wandered  a  little. 
Anyway  we  kept  driving  so  near  as  we 
knew  west.  Good  thing  we  did  just  then, 
too.  After  we  followed  the  road  a  mile 

[213] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

or  so  we  saw  what  looked  like  a  big  milk 
can  at  a  farmer's  gate.  There  was  a  dog 
there  which  kept  running  at  us,  but  there 
was  some  cover  near  by  and  we  were  ready 
to  take  a  chance  for  a  good  drink  of  milk. 
We  each  kept  the  dog  off  while  the  other 
drank.  Gee,  but  that  milk  was  good.  I'll 
bet  we  each  got  away  with  two  quarts. 
And  it  seemed  to  put  new  life  into  us. 

A  little  farther  we  hit  a  cross  road  which 
looked  familiar,  somehow,  and  looking  along 
it  we  saw  the  lights  of  a  town.  We  didn't 
want  to  hit  that  town,  but  that  was  the 
only  way  we  could  think  of  to  learn  our 
whereabouts — to  find  out  what  town  that 
was.  So  we  followed  back  along  the  road  un- 
til we  came  to  the  railway  station,  just  off 
the  road.  Then  it  all  came  to  me.  This 
was  Sudlohn,  where  the  German  guards 
had  brought  me  after  the  last  attempt  to 
escape. 

This  suited  me  all  right,  for  I  had  been 
planning  to  hit  the  border  about  the  same 
spot  as  before  because  I  knew  something 
about  conditions  there.  So  we  went  south 

[214] 


THE  SUCCESSFUL  ATTEMPT 

to  Weseke,  the  town  I  had  hit  with  old 
Nick.  This  was  only  two  miles  from  Hol- 
land but  as  we  were  pretty  well  all  in  and 
it  was  well  on  in  the  morning,  we  decided 
to  make  another  day  of  it  and  to  take  no 
chances.  We  got  fair  cover  here  and  spent 
not  too  bad  a  day,  though  when  the  sun 
came  up  we  found  we  were  only  a  hundred 
yards  from  the  road.  However,  that  was  as 
good  as  a  mile  if  we  weren't  seen.  So  we  lay 
low.  We  did  get  ajlittle '  'windy"  when  some 
people  came  up  to  work  and  cut  through 
the  next  field  so  near  we  could  have  thrown 
a  stone  into  them. 

That  didn't  figure  much,  when  we  saw 
where  they  were  making  for.  When  you 
have  narrow  escapes  half  a  dozen  times  a 
day  and  night  for  a  week,  a  little  thing  like 
that  doesn't  count  for  much. 

We  were  taking  no  chances  from  there 
on,  however,  and  after  we  started  out  at 
about  nine  o'clock,  fairly  crawled.  Half  a 
dozen  times  patrols  on  bicycles  and  ci- 
vilians, walking  and  driving,  passed  us,  but 
we  were  in  the  ditch,  lying  like  logs,  and 

[215] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

no  suspicion  was  aroused.  Our  nerves 
were  stretched  some  when  we  had  to  cross 
a  bridge  to  avoid  two  creeks.  Ordinarily 
we  would  have  swum  or  waded  them  but 
by  this  time  simply  hadn't  the  stamina  ne- 
cessary to  do  it.  And  finally,  crawling  on 
our  hands  and  knees  to  avoid  the  patrols,  and 
with  every  sense  tense,  we  came  to  the  sign- 
post which  had  misled  Nick  and  I  three 
months  before.  This  was  a  fearsome  spot. 
It  gave  me  the  creeps.  So  we  crawled  off 
the  road  and  over  into  a  plowed  field. 

While  back  at  the  mine  the  last  time  I 
had  happened  to  get  in  touch  with  a  sentry 
who  had  been  on  this  border  patrol  work, 
a  stolid  sort  of  chap,  who  never  dreamed,  I 
guess,  that  I  would  ever  be  able  to  make 
use  of  what  he  told  me.  He  had  explained 
that  there  were  three  lines  of  sentries  at 
certain  intervals  and  gave  me  other  informa- 
tion as  to  the  movements  of  the  sentries. 
This  stuff  came  in  valuable  now.  We  kept 
on  crawling  like  caterpillars,  swearing 
under  our  breaths  when  a  stick  or  a  stone 
hurt  our  knees,  till  we  got  to  what  was  the 

[216] 


THE  SUCCESSFUL  ATTEMPT 

border,  which  just  here  was  fixed  up  like  a 
side  road.  A  sentry  was  walking  up  and 
down  on  his  beat  and  by  certain  of  the 
description  I  felt  pretty  certain  this  was  the 
last  line. 

We  waited  till  his  back  was  turned  and 
then  scooted  over  like  a  pair  of  scared 
rabbits. 

Even  yet,  remembering  my  previous 
experience,  I  didn't  propose  to  take  any 
chances  and  so  we  kept  on  going  through 
the  fields  till  it  began  to  get  light  and 
then  struck  back  to  the  road. 

The  first  thing  we  saw,  when  we  stood 
up  on  the  roadside  in  the  semi-darkness, 
was  something  white  which  looked  like  a 
sheet  stretched  across  the  road.  I  thought 
at  first  it  was  a  screen  on  the  frontier  and 
was  afraid  we  were  in  wrong  again.  After 
a  minute,  however,  we  saw  the  thing  was 
moving.  That  " screen"  turned  out  to  be 
—what  do  you  suppose?  Three  people. 
Two  girls,  dressed  in  white,  and  a  man. 

When  they  came  up  I  asked  the  chap 
for  matches.  From  the  look  of  them  I 

[217] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

was  pretty  sure  they  were  not  Germans. 
When  he  spoke  civilly  in  reply  I  asked  him 
if  we  were  in  Holland.  It  was  hard  to  make 
him  understand,  but  finally  when  I  pointed 
to  the  ground  and  queried  "  Holland  ?"  he 
said,  readily,  "Jah!  Jah!" 

Say,  I  don't  know  what  those  people 
thought,  for  I  don't  think  I  ever  jumped  so 
high  in  my  life  as  I  did  just  then.  It  took 
the  tiredness  away  for  the  moment  like 
a  shot  to  know  that  at  last  we  had  accom- 
plished our  purpose  and  were  at  last  free 
from  the  jaws  of  Hunland.  Those  girls 
weren't  a  patch  on  some  I  know  in  Canada 
but  I  never  felt  so  much  like  stealing  a  kiss 
in  my  life  as  I  did  just  then.  However,  I  re- 
membered what  kind  of  a  looking  specimen  I 
must  be  and  tried  to  hang  onto  myself. 

The  chap  with  them  was  rather  a  good 
head.  When  he  understood  who  we  were 
he  became  quite  enthusiastic, — it  was  easy 
to  see  where  his  sympathies  lay — and  took 
us  back  to  a  Dutch  sentry.  We  were  taken 
to  the  headquarters,  questioned  in  the  same 
way  as  Fred,  and  then  taken  back  to  Win- 

[218] 


THE  SUCCESSFUL  ATTEMPT 

terswick.  And  there  we  got  another  meal 
I  remember  well — two  big  slices  of  bread 
and  a  big  hunk  of  headcheese.  I'll  believe 
anybody  who  tells  me  that  the  Dutch  are 
good  cooks,  all  right.  That  was  certainly 
great  headcheese. 

From  Winterswick  we  were  sent  down 
to  Didam  to  the  quarantine  station  where 
Fred  had  been  and  there  we  spent  just  eleven 
days.  I  did  my  share  with  the  canteen 
there,  too,  as  you  may  imagine. 

Three  days  after  we  lit  in  there  we  got 
a  surprise,  however,  for  one  morning  in 
walked  Blacklock,  Howitt,  and  Toby  Boyd. 
They  had  escaped  from  the  Auguste  Victo- 
ria camp  from  that  same  barred  window 
three  days  after  we  did,  and  had  made 
pretty  good  time,  right  along.  Was  there 
a  jollification  ?  Well,  I  should  say  !  All 
that  bothered  me  then  was  that  old  Nick 
wasn't  there.  Oh  no,  nobody  could  get 
out  of  Germany!  There  must  have  been 
some  funny  happenings  among  those  bor- 
der patrols  when  the  word  was  sent  back 
about  us  getting  over. 

[219] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

From  Didam  we  went  in  due  time  to 
Rotterdam  where  we  spent  four  days  as 
the  guests  of  the  British  embassy.  Here 
we  were  given  some  civilian  clothes  and  a 
passport  and  began  to  feel  like  honest  citi- 
zens again.  For  nearly  two  years,  you 
see,  we  had  been  regarded  as  scum,  and 
while  we  tried  to  hold  up  our  end  as  best 
we  knew  there  was  always  a  mighty  nasty 
feeling  in  knowing  that  we  were  prisoners 
and  practically  at  the  mercy  of  the  Huns. 


[220] 


CHAPTER  IX 

BLIGHTY  AT   LAST 

Jack  Evans  still  speaks: 

IN  due  time  we  travelled  back  to  Old 
England  on  a  small  passenger  steamer,  part 
of  a  convoy,  with  an  escort  of  sixteen  or 
eighteen  torpedo  boats,  which  picked  us 
up  not  far  out  of  the  harbor.  It  was  a 
mighty  pretty  sight  and  an  assuring  one, 
too,  to  see  those  speedy  little  boats,  in 
regular  formation,  hover  around  our  own 
and  the  freight  steamers  like  a  hive  of 
bees. 

On  landing,  we  were  handed  over  to  the 
Imperial  authorities  and  sent  to  Wellington 
Barracks,  London. 

A  week  off  and  on  was  spent  at  the  War 
Office,  being  interviewed  by  officials  in  va- 
rious departments,  with  a  view  to  getting 

[221] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

all  available  information  as  to  German 
conditions.  Naturally  we  were  somewhat 
enthusiastic  when  in  the  Canadian  Red 
Cross  Headquarters  we  were  able  to  tell 
Lady  Bulkeley  how  welcome  and  necessary 
the  parcels  sent  us  had  been. 

One  of  the  surprises  in  London  was  the 
small  amount  of  damage  done  by  the  Zepp. 
raids.  From  what  had  been  told  us  pretty 
jubilantly  by  the  Germans,  we  were  pre- 
pared to  find  the  city  more  or  less  a  mass 
of  ruins.  Their  people  certainly  believe 
that  things  are  pretty  bad  in  England. 
When  we  travelled  round  for  two  or  three 
days  without  seeing  any  signs  of  damage 
we  began  to  conclude  that  the  reports  had 
been  somewhat  exaggerated. 

Leaving  London  we  went  up  to  Canadian 
headquarters  at  Buxton  and  made  a  wel- 
come visit  to  the  paymaster.  He  was 
rather  surprised  when  I  produced  my 
original  pay  book,  which  I  had  somehow  or 
other  been  able  to  bring  through  everything 
with  me.  Once  or  twice  it  had  been  hidden 
in  rather  queer  places  when  I  expected  to 

[222] 


BLIGHTY  AT  LAST 

be  examined  but  I  managed  to  hang  on  to 
it  in  spite  of  everything. 

Shorncliffe,  for  ten  days'  leave,  was  the 
next  event  and  part  of  this  time  I  spent  at 
Gravesend  visiting.  While  here  on  the 
street  one  morning  I  ran  across  Blacklock, 
Howitt,  and  Boyd,  who  had  come  over  on  a 
different  boat  and  an  hour  or  so  after  I 
ran  up  against  a  familiar  face.  It  was  Fred. 

"Why,  hullo,"  I  said.  "What  are  you 
doing  here?  Been  wounded?  You're  look- 
ing mighty  thin." 

"What  are  you  doing  yourself?"  he  said. 

And  not  till  we  began  to  talk  it  over 
then  did  we  know  but  that  the  other  had 
been  back  in  the  trenches  all  the  time. 
Peculiar  how  things  work  out,  isn't  it? 

Fred  had  a  rather  funny  little  experience 
on  landing  in  England,  which  somehow  or 
other  he  doesn't  like  to  tell.  So  I'll  do  it 
for  him. 

We  landed  at  Harwich  while  the  boat 
he  was  on  came  in  at  Gravesend.  When 
he  reported  at  the  dock  offices  and  was 
getting  through  the  long  run  of  red  tape 

[223] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

which  everybody  has  to  put  up  with, 
they  doubted  his  story.  He  showed  them 
his  passport  and  a  photo  he  had  taken  at 
Rotterdam,  but  the  official  said:  "That 
doesn't  look  like  you,"  and  for  a  while 
wouldn't  let  him  by. 

Do  you  see  what  it  means?  The  poor 
beggar  had  been  so  starved  while  in  Ger- 
many that  when  he  did  get  a  little  food 
into  him  for  even  a  few  days,  the  change 
was  so  great  that  they  didn't  recognize  him. 
I  tell  Fred  he  must  have  laid  in  mighty 
hearty  coming  over  on  the  boat. 

We  looked  pretty  bad,  all  right,  I  guess. 
Coming  down  on  the  train  to  London  after 
I  first  landed  I  got  into  conversation  with 
an  Englishman,  who  on  leaving  me  shook 
hands  and  left  two  half  crown  pieces  in  my 
hand.  When  I  looked  a  little  surprised, 
he  said:  "Have  a  good  feed  on  me.  You 
need  it." 

From  the  photograph  of  the  bunch  of 
us  taken  in  London  just  at  that  time  you 
can  get  an  idea  how  we  did  look.  That 
photo  was  rather  unique,  too.  It  was 

[224] 


BLIGHTY  AT  LAST 

taken  at  the  suggestion  of  Colonel  Gordon, 
our  old  O.C.  of  the  4th  C.  M.  R.,  who  was 
then  Officer  Commanding  the  8th  Reserve 
Depot  Mounted  Rifles  in  England.  There 
were  five  of  us  in  London  then,  from  the 
one  Canadian  battalion,  all  of  whom  had 
escaped  within  a  month  of  one  another. 

I  guess  that  was  something  of  a  record. 
The  London  papers  made  a  good  deal  of 
it  at  the  time,  anyway.  And  the  statement 
was  made  then  that  the  Canadians  hold 
the  record  for  escapes.  Well,  at  the  rate 
they  came  into  Didam  while  we  were  there, 
it  didn't  look  as  if  there  would  be  many  of 
us  left  in  Germany  very  long. 

After  a  short  furlough  at  Manchester, 
where,  by  the  way,  we  heard  about  the 
Halifax  disaster,  we  were  put  through  the 
Canadian  discharge  depot  and  arrangements 
were  made  for  our  passage  back  to  Canada. 
This  was  made  on  the  Justicia,  with  about 
twelve  hundred  other  returning  men  and 
some  four  hundred  Canadian  women. 

The  Justicia,  for  reasons  which  were  not 
altogether  clear,  landed  at  New  York. 

15  [  225  ] 


OUT  OP  HUNLAND 

After  we  had  disembarked  they  kept  the 
crowd  waiting  in  an  immigration  shed  or 
something  like  it  on  the  docks.  We  got 
tired  of  this  and,  never  having  been  in  the 
big  town  before,  wanted  a  chance  to  look 
around  before  getting  back  to  Canada. 
Looking  around  we  saw  a  little  stairway  at 
the  rear  and  I  said  to  Fred: 

"I  guess  when  we  got  out  of  Germany 
we  ought  to  stand  a  chance  of  getting  out 
of  here.  Let's  make  a  try  for  it."  Fred 
was  game  so  we  took  a  chance  on  that 
stairway. 

It  took  us  up  three  or  four  flights  and 
up  against  a  guard  in  Uncle  Sam's  uniform. 
He  was  a  good-natured  chap,  I  guess,  for 
we  got  past  him  without  very  much  trouble, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  were  in  a  taxi  shoot- 
ing down  Broadway.  Say,  can  you  ima- 
gine it.  A  few  weeks  before  working  as 
despised  schweinhund  prisoners  in  a  black 
hole  in  Central  Germany.  Now  in  our 
own  motor  and  free  as  air  riding  down 
the  street  everybody  wants  to  see  sometime. 

And  we  surely  had  a  time  in  New  York. 

[226] 


BLIGHTY  AT  LAST 

Early  that  evening  we  were  sitting  in  a 
Broadway  restaurant  wondering  how  we 
were  going  to  scrape  up  enough  between  us 
to  pay  the  bill,  not  to  speak  of  getting  a  place 
to  sleep  for  the  night,  when  a  pleasant, 
nicely  dressed  chap  came  over  and  said: 
"Are  you  Canadian  soldiers ?" 
When  he  heard  even  a  little  of  our  story 
nothing  was  too  good  for  us.  The  bill  was 
soon  paid,  and  going  further,  he  suggested 
that  he  would  like  to  make  up  a  little  party 
for  us.  He  told  us  to  go  to  another  address 
and  to  ask  for  his  table.  Said  that  he  would 
be  along  a  little  later  with  his  wife  and  a 
few  friends. 

The  place  turned  out  to  be  Rector's  and 
in  due  time  the  party  developed  all  right  as 
per  promise.  Say,  we  really  felt  we  were 
heroes  that  night.  Nothing  was  too  good 
for  us.  We  ate  till  we  were  ready  to  bust 
—anything  that  was  on  the  menu.  Indeed 
our  friend  helped  a  good  deal  in  the  picking. 
Somehow  or  other  our  story  got  around  the 
place.  The  orchestra  started  to  play  British 
airs,  the  dancers  seemed  to  dance  especially 

[227] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

for  us,  and  altogether  we  surely  had  one 
bully  time.  Our  friend  naturally  looked 
after  putting  us  up  at  a  hotel  for  the  night 
as  well. 

Next  morning,  when  we  came  to  take 
stock,  we  found  ourselves  nearly  broke  and 
with  no  way  to  get  home  in  sight.  We 
tried  several  schemes  but  finally  reported 
to  the  British  authorities  and  were  sent 
home  to  good  old  Toronto  specially  and  in 
Pullman  berths,  too.  Some  change  that, 
after  riding  in '  those  overcrowded  cattle 
cars  in  Hunland. 

And  so,  all  the  trouble  was  over. 


[228 


CHAPTER  X 

AS  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS 

MOST  people  think  a  good  deal  of  war 
work  is  being  done  in  Canada  and  the 
United  States.  Say,  if  they  knew  condi- 
tions as  we  saw  them  in  Germany  they  would 
think  a  mighty  sight  less  of  it. 

What  would  we  think,  for  instance,  if 
not  only  every  man  who  was  at  all  fit  was 
forced  to  go  to  fight,  but  if  every  woman  was 
forced  to  put  herself  under  close  registra- 
tion and  to  work  wherever  and  at  whatever 
job  the  authorities  saw  fit?  What  would 
we  think  if  not  only  the  children  in  their 
teens  but  also  the  little  tots  of  ten  and 
eleven  were  forced  into  war  work  and, 
entirely  aside  from  any  direction  by  their 
parents,  were  put  at  labor  which  we  would 
consider  much  beyond  them  and  in  hours 

[229] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

which  the  men  of  our  laboring  class  would 
not  stand  at  all? 

And  yet  we  saw  all  this  happening  right 
around  us  in  Germany. 

Here  we  are  making  a  big  fuss  when 
women  break  into  a  few  unusual  and  light 
occupations.  Over  there  we  saw  women 
working  at  practically  everything.  They 
were  in  the  fields  in  every  section  of  the 
country  and  seemed  to  be  mixed  up  in 
every  form  of  farm  work — looking  after 
the  cattle  and  horses,  ploughing,  harvest- 
ing, threshing,  doing  distasteful  work  which 
even  our  men  here  don't  like  to  do.  And 
they  did  it.  There  was  mighty  little  fuss- 
ing about  it  or  specially  favorable  condi- 
tions made  for  them.  It  is  the  work  of  the 
women  in  the  fields  and  on  the  farms 
which  has  kept  Germany  alive  till  this 
time. 

We  saw  women  conductors,  brakemen, 
and  engineers  on  the  railways.  And  per- 
fectly efficient  they  seemed  to  be.  It  was 
a  common  sight,  not  an  unusual  one.  And 
even  in  the  heaviest  class  of  labor  the 

[230] 


AS  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS 

women  seemed  to  be  doing  a  large  share. 
At  a  large  glass  works  at  Annan,  for  in- 
stance, we  saw  a  number  of  women  wheeling 
huge  barrowloads  of  coke  and  cinders. 
And  at  the  August- Victoria  mine  women 
were  employed  entirely  in  the  removal  of 
the  cars  of  coal  from  the  mine  head.  It 
was  a  shame  to  watch  them,  some  of  them 
delicate  girls,  pushing  these  heavy  cars, 
work  which  must  have  been  away  beyond 
their  strength. 

Remember,  too,  that  this  was  not  done 
of  their  own  accord,  or  in  any  patriotic 
spirit.  While  we  did  not  get  a  chance  to 
talk  to  any  of  the  women  themselves  we  did 
talk  with  the  civilians  about  them.  They 
told  us,  quite  as  though  it  were  a  usual 
matter,  how  these  women  and  girls,  some 
of  them  mere  youngsters,  had  been  brought 
from  their  homes  at  government  direction 
and  were  forced  to  do  this  kind  of  work. 

Couldn't  they  strike  or  refuse  to  do  it? 
Yes,  they  could  and  did  occasionally  at 
first,  so  we  were  told.  But  that's  all  the 
good  it  did  them.  You  see,  at  that  time, 

[231] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

as  no  doubt  it  is  now,  it  was  necessary  to 
have  cards  to  get  not  only  food  but  also 
clothing  and  other  necessaries  and  the  old 
injunction  that  if  a  man  won't  work  neither 
shall  he  eat  was  applied  practically  to  the 
women  in  this  case.  The  thing  was  very 
simple.  If  they  didn't  do  the  work  as 
they  were  ordered,  and  a  fair  amount  of  it 
at  that,  they  got  no  cards. 

And  if  you  will  imagine  the  worst  social 
conditions  which  might  apply  in  such  a 
state  of  affairs  you  will  about  hit  what 
prevailed  among  these  women.  Some  of 
them  had  come  from  good  homes  and  were 
more  or  less  cultured.  Others  were  from 
anything  but  that  class.  They  were  forced 
to  live  more  or  less  closely  together  under 
regulations  similar  to  that  existing  in  mili- 
tary camps  and  in  the  light  of  the  pittance 
of  pay  they  received,  over  and  above  their 
living,  it  is  not  surprising  that  anything 
but  ideal  conditions  prevailed.  What  this 
sort  of  thing  is  going  to  mean  to  the  Ger- 
many of  to-morrow  one  can  only  conjecture. 

What  would  we  think,  again,  if  we  saw 

[232] 


AS  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS 

squads  of  our  boys  and  girls  from  twelve 
to  sixteen  years  old  being  marched  down 
the  streets  of  our  towns  and  villages  to  the 
railroad  stations  to  be  taken  away  for  war 
work? 

Yet  we  saw  this  thing  not  once  but  fre- 
quently when  we  were  on  farm  work  out- 
side the  prison  camps.  These  kiddies,  as 
they  actually  were,  were  drafted,  just  as  our 
young  men  are,  and  without  any  direction 
or  choice  on  the  part  of  the  parents,  were 
taken  off  to  some  adjacent  section,  to  work 
in  the  harvest  or  in  some  industrial  concern, 
where  their  hours,  their  meals,  and  their 
whole  lives  were  regulated  to  the  last  notch. 

One  little  chap,  Rudolph,  was  taken  from 
the  home  of  one  of  the  farms  we  were  on. 
He  was  only  eleven  and  small  for  his  age, 
but  that  apparently  made  no  difference. 
He  cried  very  hard  when  the  time  came  to 
go  and  had  to  be  pulled  away  from  his 
people  by  force.  He  was  away  for  six 
weeks  at  a  stretch,  having  been  taken  to 
a  factory  in  Bavaria,  about  a  hundred  miles 
from  home.  We  saw  him  once  when  he 

[233] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

was  home  for  a  day  or  two  and  the  poor 
little  beggar  looked  nearly  dead.  He  was 
given  no  pay,  but  worked  and  suffered,  as  no 
doubt  he  did  very  deeply,  for  his  keep  alone. 
And  pretty  poor  keep  it  must  have  been. 
At  that  time  his  family  were  subsisting 
chiefly  on  turnips  and  mangels.  What 
these  children  got  away  from  home  it  is 
hard  to  guess.  Certainly,  judging  from 
this  little  fellow's  appearance,  it  was  any- 
thing but  nourishing. 

What  would  we  think,  again,  if  our  town 
schools  were  closed  for  several  days  at  a 
time  during  the  harvest  season  and  our 
children  were  forced  to  go  out  in  a  body 
to  work  at  gleaning  following  the  harvesting 
machinery?  Many  times  we  saw  identi- 
cally this  happen  in  the  province  of  Hess- 
Nassau,  where  we  were  working.  A  large 
farmer  in  the  district  would  apply  for  the 
help  of  the  children  and  apparently  there 
were  regulations  empowering  him  to  enforce 
his  demand.  The  school  was  closed  and 
four  or  five  hundred  children  given  over  to 
his  control  for  the  day.  It  almost  broke 

[234] 


AS  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS 

our  hearts  two  or  three  times,  to  see  the 
line  of  kiddies,  from  eight  to  ten  years  old, 
both  girls  and  boys,  plodding  heartlessly 
and  stolidly  up  the  field,  with  the  farmer 
behind  them,  prodding  them  on.  Occa- 
sionally one  would  fall  behind  and  in  most 
cases  the  treatment  he  would  receive  would 
be  anything  but  gentle.  These  children 
worked  from  dawn  till  dark  and  kept  at  it 
in  a  way  few  of  our  children  would  be  able 
to  stand.  The  only  period  which  might 
be  called  a  rest  was  at  noon  when  they  got 
from  fifteen  minutes  to  half  an  hour  to 
eat  what  little  lunch  they  brought  with 
them. 

Our  children  would  have  been  laughing 
or  crying  under  such  treatment.  All  the 
laughter  seemed  to  be  regulated  or  ham- 
mered out  of  these  children.  They  did 
what  they  had  to  stolidly,  just  as  though 
they  knew  they  had  to  and  there  was  no 
help  for  it.  There  was  no  spirit  of  fun  or 
mischief  evident  as  there  would  be  among 
our  children  in  similar  circumstances.  And 
as  we  see  it,  it  must  be  this  spirit  of  stolidity 

[235] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

and  subservience  to  regulations  which  is 
keeping  Germany  where  she  is  to-day. 

Of  course  there  was  a  reward  for  this 
work.  In  money  or  gifts?  No.  If  the 
children  of  one  school  did  particularly  well 
their  school  would  be  given  a  distinguishing 
mark  and  listed  with  special  honor. 

We  don't  suppose  these  conditions  existed 
to  the  same  extent  in  the  cities  or  among 
the  wealthier  classes.  We  were  told  that 
the  private  schools  were  exempt  from  it. 

Oh,  it's  the  peasant  and  the  laboring 
class  that  is  bearing  the  larger  share  of  the 
burden,  all  right.  The  civilians  used  to 
say  that  if  you  had  money  you  could  get 
along  in  Germany  all  right.  And  they  told 
us  repeated  stories  of  graft  in  various  forms. 
For  instance,  we  saw  at  a  railway  station 
one  day  a  young  chap  in  civilian  clothes 
who  looked  fit  and  well — a  sight  so  un- 
usual that  it  provoked  comment.  When 
we  asked  a  guard  about  it  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  explained  that  that  young 
man  was  well  known  all  over  that  section 
as  having  been  bought  out  of  service  by  a 

[236] 


AS  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS 

rich  father.  How  much  the  generous- 
hearted  dad  may  have  had  to  put  up  for 
the  sake  of  safety  for  his  son's  skin  may  be 
judged  from  the  story  told  us  by  a  sentry 
we  got  fairly  close  to  in  Friedrichsfeld  camp. 
This  chap  had  gone  to  the  States  when  a  boy, 
had  piled  up  a  small  fortune  and  had  come 
back  to  Germany  to  live  just  a  year  or  two 
before  the  war.  When  the  call  came  to  his 
class  he  was  naturally  not  as  enthusiastic 
about  the  future  of  the  Fatherland  as  some 
of  the  others  and  in  consequence  made 
arrangements  to  purchase  his  exemption. 
He  paid  about  a  fifth  of  his  fortune  and 
rested  in  fancied  security  for  six  months 
when  another  call  came  and  it  appeared 
that  his  exemption  had  only  been  tempo- 
rary. Again  he  tried  the  same  scheme, 
with  the  same  result.  In  the  end  he  was 
drafted,  forced  to  leave  his  wife  and  two 
children  with  practically  nothing  more  than 
the  common  soldier's  allowance  and  was 
serving  as  a  guard  and  receiving  training 
under  the  not  particularly  pleasant  treat- 
ment of  the  German  non-coms.  This  man 

[237] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

expected  to  be  sent  to  the  Western  front 
shortly.  It  is  altogether  likely  he  has  been 
in  the  recent  mass  attacks  in  France.  The 
allowance  which  was  made  to  his  wife 
and  family  was  twenty  marks  per  month 
with  an  addition  of  two  or  three  marks  for 
the  children.  This  would  amount  to  not 
more  than  six  dollars  all  told.  When  he 
tried  to  work  this  out  to  buy  food,  with 
beef  at  four-fifty  per  pound  (when  it  could 
be  gotten)  and  other  things  in  proportion, 
the  outlook  was  not  very  cheering.  Jiminy, 
how  this  chap  used  to  curse  the  Kaiser  and 
the  whole  German  system — when  none 
but  us  could  hear  him.  He  realized  then 
what  a  fool  he  had  been  to  leave  the  United 
States  and  that  the  Fatherland,  much 
boasted  of,  was  not  the  Fatherland  he  had 
carried  in  his  memory. 

One  old  farmer  we  talked  to  one  day  told 
a  pitiful  story  illustrating  rather  typically 
the  general  situation  among  the  German 
agricultural  classes. 

"Before  the  war,"  he  said,  when  we 
asked  him  how  things  were  going,  "I  had 

[238] 


AS  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS 

five  pigs,  a  couple  of  cows,  lots  of  money 
and  five  splendid  sons.  Now,"  with  a 
facial  expression  which  carried  even  more 
than  his  words.  "Now  I  have  neither 
hogs,  cows,  sons  nor  money.  The  govern- 
ment has  taken  them  all." 

His  five  sons  had  been  killed,  one  after 
another,  two  on  the  Russian  and  three  on 
the  Western  front.  Here  he  was,  in  his 
old  age,  when  he  had  been  depending  on 
his  sons,  and  failing  that  his  savings,  for 
the  future,  trying  to  eke  out  an  existence 
with  two  miserable-looking  goats. 

Why  do  the  people  stand  it,  you  ask? 
Will  there  be  a  revolution? 

Well,  with  all  due  regard  to  what  Ambas- 
sador Gerard  says — and  we  don't  profess 
to  know  much  about  political  conditions 
in  general  and  base  our  opinions  entirely 
on  what  we  saw  and  on  what  we  learned 
from  our  conversations  with  the  soldiers 
and  civilians — it's  a  very  discussable  matter. 

That  the  German  people  generally  are 
disgusted  with  the  war  and  have  lost  hope 
of  any  great  and  ultimate  victory  there  is 

[239] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

no  doubt.  That  was  the  spirit,  at  least, 
when  we  were  among  them.  Whether  the 
Kaiser  and  Hindenburg  have  been  able  to 
give  them  any  new  hope  in  the  recent  move- 
ments in  France  is  also  a  query.  They 
were  hoping,  when  we  were  there,  for  a 
speedy  peace,  with  such  indemnities  as 
their  capture  of  territory  might  win  for 
them.  Some  of  them  looked  hopefully  to 
such  indemnities  for  a  lowering  of  burden- 
some taxation.  While  some  suspicion  that 
the  newspapers  were  not  giving  them  the 
truth  was  seeping  in  then,  they  had  been 
fed  so  systematically  and  continuously  with 
news  favorable  to  Germany  that  it  was 
difficult  for  other  than  favorable  opinions 
to  find  lodgment.  For  instance,  when  we 
found  a  man  who  was  willing  to  talk  at  all 
freely  about  conditions  and  would  ask  him 
to  account  for  the  atrocities  in  France  and 
Belgium,  he  would,  although  ready  to 
damn  the  Kaiser  and  the  military  system 
in  general,  protest  the  facts  of  the  stories 
we  told  him,  some  of  which  we  knew  by 
personal  experience  to  be  true.  Occasion- 

[240] 


AS  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS 

ally  we  got  hold  of  the  German  local  papers 
and  CQvJd  read  enough  to  see  how  things 
were  going.  Usually  there  was  point  blank 
denial  of  atrocities  by  the  Germans  and  on 
the  other  hand  stories  of  alleged  terrors  on 
the  part  of  the  French  and  English,  particu- 
larly as  to  their  treatment  of  prisoners. 

We  knew  from  what  we  had  seen  in 
France  that  these  were  absolutely  absurd 
but  of  course  it  was  out  of  the  question  to 
make  the  Germans  believe  that. 

The  thing  which  seemed  to  astonish  them 
most  was  that  we  had  come  from  America 
and  had  volunteered  to  get  into  the  war. 
It  was  mighty  hard  to  make  clear  to  them 
just  why  we  had  gotten  into  it  and  harder 
still  to  convince  them  that  we  had  not 
been  conscripted.  From  their  point  of 
view  we  were  fools  of  the  worst  possible 
variety  to  get  into  a  thing  like  war  when  we 
didn't  actually  have  to. 

On  the  other  hand  it  was  hard  for  us  to 
understand  how,  with  the  freely-expressed 
disgust  at  the  conditions  in  the  Empire 
and  particularly  with  the  dominance  of  the 


16 


24I 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

military  clique,  these  people  still  main- 
tained their  ideal  of  the  Fatherland.  While 
they  hate  William,  chiefly  because  they  be- 
lieve he  was  largely  responsible  for  the  war, 
they  still  maintain  their  faith  in  the  Kaiser. 
It  is  a  peculiar  continuance  of  the  old-time 
Divine  Right  of  Kings  idea  which  will  be 
very  hard  to  dislodge  in  Germany. 

Even  so,  the  feeling  is  so  strong  and  the 
suffering  so  intense  as  a  result  of  the  war 
that  it  looks  as  if  the  whole  country  would 
go  up  like  tinder,  if — resolute  leaders  would 
crop  up.  There  was  talk  of  revolution, 
considerable  of  it,  while  we  were  there,  but 
that's  all  it  amounted  to.  The  figures 
who  display  any  initiative  seem  either  to 
be  with  the  Government,  which  means  the 
military  party,  or  to  be  dominated  and 
bound  down  by  it. 

We  read  a  good  deal  about  the  low 
morale  of  the  German  soldiery.  The  same 
thing  is  true  among  the  civilians  and  has 
resulted,  to  a  large  extent,  it  would  seem, 
from  the  universal  military  system.  A 
corporal  in  the  German  army  has  the  same 

[242] 


AS  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS 

authority  over  the  privates  that  one  of  our 
lieutenants  has.  A  good  deal  more  in 
practice.  And  the  brutal,  domineering 
spirit  is  carried  to  the  limit.  The  same 
thing  is  carried  out  to  a  greater  degree  as 
the  ranks  advance.  We  have  seen  a  cor- 
poral on  the  parade  ground  at  Friedrichs- 
feld  repeatedly  kick  a  private  or  hammer 
him  over  the  head  with  his  rifle.  This 
seemed  to  be  taken  as  a  matter  of  course 
and  no  comment  was  made.  Fancy  any 
Canadian  or  American  soldier  taking  treat- 
ment like  that  under  any  consideration. 
So  it  goes  on.  The  corporal  bullies  the 
private.  The  sergeant  takes  it  out  of  the 
corporal.  The  sergeant-major  gets  after 
the  sergeant.  And  the  lieutenants  and 
higher  officers  treat  the  common  soldiers 
like  dogs.  Everyman's  hand  is  out  against 
the  man  below  him.  And  he  knows  he  can 
get  away  with  about  anything  in  that  line 
he  wants  to. 

With  universal  military  service  in  opera- 
tion for  generations  this  sort  of  thing  was 
bound  to  have  a  mighty  strong  result  on 

[243] 


OUT  OP  HUNLAND 

the  character  of  the  people  generally  and 
it  seems  that  this,  as  much  as  anything 
else,  has  ground  the  initiative  out  of  the 
German  character. 

Apparently  it  has  also  ground  something 
else  out — or  in.  We  don't  believe  there's 
a  German,  that  is,  a  real  German-German 
but  can  be  bribed  to  do  anything — if  the 
stake  is  big  enough.  Look  at  the  guards 
who  repeatedly  committed  treason  by  sell- 
ing us  maps  and  compasses  for  a  morsel  of 
soap.  Look  again  at  the  information  we 
got  as  to  the  location  of  the  sentries  on  the 
Border.  In  some  ways  they  were  ready  to 
suffer  a  good  deal  for  the  Fatherland  but 
there  were  mighty  few  of  them  who  couldn't 
be  won  over  to  do  anything,  with  the  proper 
bribe.  This  is  reflected  again  in  the  opera- 
tions of  the  German  agents  all  over  the 
world. 

This  whole  matter  was  well  illustrated  in 
incidents  which  came  under  our  attention. 
Off  and  on  while  we  were  there  we  heard 
rumors  of  possible  strikes  among  the  civili- 
ans in  the  August- Victoria  mine.  Once 

[244] 


AS  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS 

five  or  six  hundred  of  them  got  together 
and  went  out  for  half  a  day.  What  hap- 
pened? Most  of  them  got  cold  feet  and 
went  back  to  work  next  day  and  the  whole 
thing  fell  through.  The  day  following  a 
' '  Verboten ' '  sign,  bearing  Hindenburg's 
picture,  appeared,  forbidding,  under  heavy 
penalty,  the  gathering  together  of  more 
than  four  men  at  once  in  any  one  spot.  It 
seemed  to  do  the  work  admirably  for 
matters  settled  down  immediately. 

At  another  time,  when  we  were  on  a  farm 
not  far  from  Essen,  we  heard  how  a  strike, 
which  threatened  to  be  troublesome,  was 
handled  at  the  great  Krupp  works.  Here 
five  or  six  thousand  went  out  on  a  food 
strike  and  the  situation  looked  serious  since 
it  threatened  to  spread  through  the  whole 
works.  It  didn't  last  long,  however.  The 
officials  of  the  plant  got  busy  and  the  day 
following  Kaiser  William  appeared  on  the 
scene.  He  talked  to  those  men  in  groups, 
appealing  to  them,  from  a  patriotic  stand- 
point, to  go  back  to  work  and  put  up  as 
best  they  could  with  conditions.  It's  likely 

[245] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

he  promised  them  a  good  many  things  in 
addition  which  he  hadn't  any  intention  of 
carrying  out.  In  any  event  the  strike 
melted  down  like  butter  on  a  hot  stove  and 
three  hours  from  the  time  of  his  arrival  the 
men  were  all  back  at  work  and  the  trouble 
over,  for  the  time  being,  at  least. 

And  so  it  goes  on.  When  anybody  asks 
us  when  we  think  the  war  is  going  to  end 
in  the  light  of  what  we  saw  in  Germany  we 
have  to  give  them  a  sort  of  review  of  what 
we  have  told  here.  So  long  as  the  army 
is  fed  and  the  people  can  struggle  along 
with  enough  to  keep  body  and  soul  together 
— unless  conditions  change  suddenly  and 
unless  some  leader  arises  who  can  gather 
round  him  a  body  of  determined,  fearless 
supporters,  as  Danton  and  Robespierre 
did  in  the  seventeen-nineties,  it  looks  as 
though  the  German  people  would  continue 
to  put  up  with  their  burden  indefinitely. 
They  had  given  up  hope  of  winning  the 
war,  in  any  victorious  fashion.  That  was 
very  generally  evident  before  we  left.  And 
the  expectations  regarding  the  outcome 

[246] 


AS  TO  GENERAL  CONDITIONS 

changed  very  greatly  while  we  were  among 
them.  When  we  were  first  able  to  talk 
about  it  with  them,  for  instance,  it  was  only 
a  matter  of  time  until  a  victorious  end  was 
to  come.  As  the  months  went  by  we 
could  see  a  change  in  this  expectation  mak- 
ing itself  gradually  evident.  Perhaps  the 
entry  of  the  United  States  into  the  struggle 
had  as  much  to  do  with  this  as  anything. 
They  wouldn't  believe  it  at  all,  at  first,  but 
this  was  one  bit  of  real  news  their  papers 
did  give  them  and  finally  the  realization 
of  what  it  might  mean  began  to  get  into 
their  heads. 

As  matters  stood  when  we  left  most  of  the 
people  we  talked  with,  even  the  soldiers, 
expected  that  matters  would  end  upon  a 
fifty-fifty  basis.  Most  of  them  didn't  care 
what  the  basis  was  so  long  as  the  end  came 
soon.  They  were  sick — mentally,  physically, 
and  in  spirit,  of  the  whole  terrible  business 
and  were  longing  in  a  way  that  we  who 
have  suffered  so  much  less  can  scarcely 
understand,  for  the  end. 

What  the  future  may  hold  for  Germany 

[247] 


OUT  OF  HUNLAND 

it  is  very  hard  to  say.  We  do  know  one 
thing,  however,  and  that  is  that  the  na- 
tional character  will  have  to  change  mightily 
before  there  can  be  any  lasting  brightness 
or  happiness  for  her  people. 


[248] 


Jt  Selection  from  the 
Catalogue  of 

C.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Complete  Catalogues  sen* 
on  applioatioa 


FIRST  CALL 


GUIDE 
POSTS 

TO 

ARTHUR  GUY  EMPEY    BERLIN 


BY 


Author  of  "OVER  THE  TOP" 

12°.    Illustrated.    $1.50  (By  mail,  $1.65) 

In  the  amazingly  vivid  and  simple  way  that 
has  made  Over  the  Top  the  most  widely  read 
and  talked  of  book  in  America,  and  the  most 
successful  war  book  in  all  history,  Empey  tells 
the  new  soldiers 

What  they  want  to  know 
What  they  ought  to  know 
What  they'll  have  to  know 

and  what  their  parents,  sweethearts,  wives,  and 
all  Americans,  will  want  to  know,  and  can  do  to 
help. 

A  practical  book  by  an  American  who  has 
been  through  it  all. 

The  chapters  headed  "  Smokes  "  and  "  Thank 
God  the  Stretcher  Bearers"  will  stand  among 
the  war  classics. 

Here  is  advice,  here  are  suggestions,  over- 
looked in  other  books,  that  will  safeguard  our 
boys  in  France. 

•    G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 
New  York  London 


IT  IS  THE  REAL  STUFF 

OVER  THE  TOP 

BY  AN  AMERICAN  SOLDIER  WHO  WENT 

ARTHUR  GUY  EMPEY 

MACHINE  GUNNER,  SERVING  IN  FRANCE 


AUTHOR    OF 

"FIRST  CALL" 


For  a  year  and  a  half,  until  he 
fell  wounded  in  No  Man's  Land,  this 
American  soldier  saw  more  actual 
fighting  and  real  warfare  than  any  war 
correspondent  who  has  written  about 
the  war.  His  experiences  are  grim, 
but  they  are  thrilling  and  lightened  by 
a  touch  of  humor  as  original  as  the 
Soldiers  Three.  And  they  are  true. 

12°,    16  Illustrations  and  Diagrams,     $1,50  net. 
By  mail.   SL65 

TOGETHER  WITH  TOMMY'S  DICTIONARY  OF  THE 
TRENCHES 

"Over  The  Top  with  the  Best  of 

Luck  and  Give  Them  Hell!" 

i 

The  British  Soldier's  War  Cry,  as  he  goes  over  the 
top  of  the  trench  to  the  charge 


When  the  Prussians 
Came  to  Poland 

By 
Mme.  Laura  de  Turczynowicz 

Marquise  de  Gozdawa 

12°.    Illustrated.    $1.50  net.    By  maH,  $i.6£ 

The  story  of  an  American  woman,  the  wife 
of  a  Polish  noble,  caught  in  her  home  by  the 
floodtide  of  the  German  invasion  of  the  ancient 
kingdom  of  Poland. 

A.  straightforward  narrative,  terribly  real,  of 
her  experiences  in  the  heart  of  the  eastern 
war-zone,  of  her  struggle  with  the  extreme 
conditions,  of  her  Red  Gross  work,  of  her 
fight  for  the  lives  of  her  children  and  herself 
against  the  dread  Typhus,  and  at  last,  of  her 
release  and  journey  through  Germany  and 
Holland  to  this  country.  How  truly  she  was 
in  line  of  the  German  advance  may  be  ap- 
preciated from  the  fact  that  Field  Marshal 
von  Hindenburg  for  some  days  made  his 
headquarters  under  her  roof. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


A 

"Temporary  Gentleman" 
in  France 

Home  Letters  from  an  Officer  at  the  Front 
Introductory  Chapters  by 

Capt.  A.  J.  Dawson 

Border  Regiment 

12°.    $1.50  net.    By  mail,  $1.65 

Frank,  unstudied  letters  written  from  the  front  by  a  regi- 
mental officer  who,  prior  to  the  war,  was  a  clerk  in  a  sub- 
urban office  somewhere  in  Blighty.  It  should  appeal  strongly 
to  all  men  in  training  camps,  to  all  men  liable  to  be  called  up,  to 
their  parents  and  relatives,  as  an  absolutely  real  and  docu- 
mentary record  of  actual  experience  in  the  war  of  one  who, 
like  themselves,  had  never  had  a  thought  before  of  military 
service. 

The  chapters  provide  an  interesting  and  representative  series 
of  experiences:  The  First  Letter;  The  First  March;  The 
Tale  of  a  Tub;  The  Trenches  at  Last;  A  Dissertation  on 
Mud;  Taking  Over  on  a  Quiet  Night;  "What  It's  Like"; 
The  Dug-Out;  A  Bombing  Show;  Over  the  Parapet;  The 
Night  Patrol;  In  Billets;  Bombardment;  The  Day's  Work; 
Tommy  Dodd  and  Trench  Routine;  Stalking  Snipers; 
An  Artful  Stunt;  The  Spirit  of  the  Men;  The  Unhealthy 
Bit  of  Line;  They  Say—;  The  New  Front  Line;  A  Great 
Night's  Work;  The  Coming  Push;  Front  Line  to  Hospital; 
The  Push  and  After;  Blighty. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


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